


moments silence

by Btvslayer



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Multi, Torture, Vampires, Violence, eliot is super hot and suave uber vamp, heavy cursing, heterosexual vampires? unrealistic. blocked, i mixed a lot of popular vamp lore for this just fyi, quentin and eliots love saves lives, quentin is an awkward yet adorable half vamp, the rest of our gang here is also uber vamps
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-08 13:23:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17982131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Btvslayer/pseuds/Btvslayer
Summary: “This is Eliot,” Margo spoke, but Quentin’s eyes were already locked onto Eliot’s. He had astonishing hazel eyes, encapsulated with long lashes, which were more evident behind his mask. His mask, which had two, golden pegasi on it, should have been the prettiest part of his ensemble, but Quentin quickly came to the realization that he was the ensemble, his outfit was a mere accessory. His face was practically perfect, with a small amount of stubble littering his upper lip and cleft chin; Quentin was pretty sure he’s had wet dreams involving this exact man. Eliot was much, much taller than Quentin, which only added to his suave and intimidation. Quentin wasn’t even sure he was breathing at this point, he was so concentrated on the entirety of Eliot.“Eliot Waugh,” He simpered, his voice low and seductive. Eliot took his hand, which was littered with rings, and grabbed Quentin’s. Eliot brought Quentin’s hand to his mouth and kissed the top of his hand, as he looked at Quentin behind long lashes, his eyes were dark.“Q. . .Quentin Coldwater,” Quentin shivered, as Eliot let go of his hand. They never broke eye contact and Quentin could feel the playful, yet serious nature that lurked behind Eliot’s.





	1. once more, with feeling

“Julia, I. . . I really don’t think a masquerade ball is suited for, like anyone in the 21st century,” Quentin’s voice played off as sarcastic, but he was actually quite intrigued, he loved the idea of being able to become one with history. He has always been fascinated with history, during times like the renaissance, but the thing that encapsulated him was the mythology and fantasy that intertwined itself during those days. It’s something he nose-dived into, as coping mechanisms, when his depression and anxiety controlled almost every other thought he had. He had been in an odd state with his mental stability as of late, not exactly depressed, but sure as hell not happy either; he felt off.

“Oh, shut up, Q. I have picked out the perfect ensemble outfit for you!” Julia practically bounced up and down happily, holding an intricate white suit, decorated with a singular, wilting rose where his heart would lie. The suit itself was stunning and the mask only accentuated its beauty; the mask was simple, the topper half red and the lower half white, but decorated with music composure.

“So, what do you think?” Julia beamed, shaking the outfit in her hands. Quentin laughed, carefully taking the outfit from her hands. “Now, go get ready! I get to do your makeup and hair tonight, so that may take a while,” She shrugged, giving him a small wave before leaving his room. He sighed, placing the suit and the mask on his bed, running a hand through his hair. He would literally give his life up for Julia; she was the strongest, smartest, and kindest person he’s ever known. Seeing her so excited about something made him smile even if it meant he had to go through hours of preparation to get there. This ball was being thrown by her partners and their friends. Kady and Penny, were their names, Quentin didn’t know much about her partners, but he knew they made her happy and that’s all that mattered to Q. So, he turned towards his bathroom door and walked inside, mentally preparing himself for one hell of a night.

Once he finished the shower and got his hair somewhat combed, he looked at the suit once more. He had completely missed the tie that came with the outfit; it was white like the suit itself, but at the tail end of it was a beautiful rose, lively.

“What is the theme here, life and death?” He chuckled to himself as he put the suit on. After minutes of struggling with the clothes, Julia walked back into the room. She had a beautiful pastel pink dress on, that trailed down to the floor, but the true beauty of the outfit were the pink roses that wove together at the bottom of the dress. He met her eyes, and they were encircled with a soft rim of pink, that faded to a hotter, violent pink. “You look beyond stunning, Aphrodite would be jealous.”

Julia snorted, “You bet your ass she would be.”

“For real Jules, you look so pretty, but then again you always do,” Quentin smiled, incredibly genuinely, his eyes scrunching up a bit. Julia smiled back, her cheeks reddening, stepping forward to fix Quentin’s tie. “You know I struggle with basic human functions,” He sighed, watching her nimble fingers fix the accessory.

She quirked an eyebrow, “I do, but that is one hundred percent okay. I know you’re trying, Q,” She chuckled, earning a roll of the eyes from Quentin. “Now, let’s go fucking beat your face.”

Quentin gulped, scared of her sudden enthusiasm and determination as she gripped his wrist and led him to her bathroom. They shared an apartment, having been best friends for most of their lives, this plan had been in the books for a long time. Julia does spend a lot of time either Kady and Penny, however, which is fine with Quentin as long as he gets the chance to make fun of her and tell her to ‘always be safe’.

Quentin was sat in front of a mirror, but the thing that really caught his attention was the mountain of makeup and hair products that were sprawled out in front of him.

“Where do you keep this shit?” Quentin asked, flabbergasted. Julia just chuckled, grabbing a comb and raking it through Quentin’s hair. His hair was a golden brown that had grown a little past his shoulders; it looked amazing on him if anyone was being honest.

“We are going to do a dutch braid, but I’m going to leave a little bit of hair out of it, so that it falls in front of your face. You’re gonna look hot as fuck, Q. Then, I’m going to give your weird ass eyes black eye shadow that fades to white, along with a beautiful winged eyeliner and some mascara to top it off. Can’t forget the heart I’m going to have to paint onto your lips. If anyone looks better than you at that ball, I’ll be pissed and utterly surprised,” Quentin didn’t quite understand half of the stuff Julia was talking about, but knowing her, he really would look that good.

“My eyes aren’t that weird. . .” Quentin huffed, slumping a bit. Alas, they were weird. He had a severe and odd case of heterochromia where one of his eyes was brown and the other was practically gold. The brown eye shimmered in the sunlight, creating a ring of gold around the brown that rivaled his other eye. Although, his other eye seemed to always glisten and shimmer a little bit. He has always been told that he was gorgeous, in an unconventional way.

“Oh, they’re definitely weird, but they’re absolutely stunning, which is why I want to draw attention to them. Maybe someone else will be hypnotized by those eyes of yours,” Julia winked at him, making him blush. She has always been supportive of every relationship he’s had, but he’s been single for a while. His depression had been horrible for months on end, keeping him from doing much of anything, luckily Julia and his father had found him a proper therapist which also led to him getting back on his meds.

“Sure Jules, I’m sure someone’s going to look at me an. . .and think. This, now this is hot,” He gestured to himself. Julia scoffed and rolled her eyes, but continued to concentrate on his hair. After a solid hour, everything was complete. His makeup, hair and his outfit, and it was about time to leave.

“Close your eyes!” She practically screeched in excitement. Quentin snapped his eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowing. “Finishing touches. . . and mwah! Take a look, Q!”

Quentin slowly opened his eyes, immediately shocked with whom was staring back at him. The man in the mirror was gorgeously handsome, embracing his femininity and masculinity wondrously. He had a gorgeous tail of eye shadow and eyeliner, making his eyes become so much more invigorating, his lips looked plump with the red, glittery heart placed on his cupids bow, and his hair had been transformed into a waterfall of beauty, a strand being left in his face.

“Well, what do you think?” Julia puzzled, gripping his shoulders in anticipation.

“I look beautiful,” He hummed, his voice almost inaudible. Julia grinned, squeezing his shoulder a little bit before turning away to leave the bathroom. He kept eye contact with his reflection his hand carefully touching his own face to see if he was real; this was everything he’s ever wanted, to be a handsome, mysterious creature that encapsulated the hearts of all that came into contact with him.

“You always do, Q. I’m glad you’ve finally come to that conclusion, even if it took a braid and some extensive makeup.” Julia said as she came back into the room, her reflection holding his mask in her hands. “Avengers assemble,” Julia teased, handing Quentin his mask. Julia was wearing hers, it was a light pink that faded into a white, with these beautiful extensions on the eyes that created a piece of artwork on her face. Quentin placed his mask on his face, careful not to mess his makeup, and transformed into someone else,  _ something  _ else.

“Off we are now, sir,” Julia teased, offering her elbow to him. He took it with a confidence he has never had before, already disappearing into the persona Julia created for him.

#

Once the car stopped next to the world’s biggest mansion, Quentin felt his throat close up. His breathing quickly sped as he concluded that he was not good enough for a party of this magnitude. The house itself oozed personality, being old, yet modernized, detailed, yet simple, Quentin was almost positive it costed more than his life was worth by 500.

“Deep breathing Q, I promise it’s not that intimidating. The owners are some of the nicest, well, mostly nicest people you’ll ever meet. C’mon.” Julia offered her arm once again, her eyes wide in worry. Quentin took one last deep breath, trying to control the intense anxiety starting to rise, and linked his arm with hers. They stepped out of the car and were met with a breath of warm air, the sky illuminated by the pale moon, and the aureate lights radiating from inside the house. With every step, Quentin could feel his breath becoming shallow. Once they were at the front porch which might have been bigger than Quentin’s entire bedroom, Julia rang the doorbell. A loud and intricate father-clock sound rang off, probably echoing throughout the entire house.

The door was opened immediately and the person behind it held a small smile on her tight lips. Quentin was hit with a whiff of chocolate and vanilla, swirling pleasantly in the air.

“Julia, we are so glad you could come. Kady and Penny have been anxiously awaiting your arrival. This must be Quentin Coldwater,” The girl’s voice was soft, yet sharp, her eyes were an icy blue, which contrasted sharply to her pale skin. Her eyes bored directly into his soul. She eyed him over, a curious glint in her eyes, as her pin-straight blonde hair swayed slightly.  Quentin got a chance to glance at her outfit, which was a gray, form fitting, short dress with small, gray wings attached to the back, that fit perfectly on her body. Her mask, also gray, kept her eyes the masterpiece of her outfit. She was staggeringly mesmerizing, so much so, Quentin was almost taken aback.

“Y. . . yes, Quentin Coldwater,” He smiled, offering his hand for her to shake, she took it and nodded at him.

“If you’d follow me this way, I’m sure Margo has been waiting for me,” She began, opening the door further and stepping to the side to let them inside the house.

“Who’s Margo?” His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to rack his brain for any information about this Margo.

“Her girlfriend, one of the main owners of the house. She’s very world renowned for her modeling and her ability to keep a business afloat,” Julia muttered back as they took the first step into the home.

Quentin’s eyes widened even more, which he didn’t think was humanly possible. Quentin saw the entire first floor while standing in the doorway. He was slack jawed at the detail they went to; their mansion was decorated meticulously, in a way that made him believe it really was 1600s Venice. People were socializing on the world’s biggest dance floor, while soft, yet booming music echoed throughout the halls. Tables of food littered the sides of the walls while the live band played in a corner. As they continued walking, Quentin’s breath caught upon viewing the glistening chandelier that hung from concave ceiling, which would have caught his attention, since it had the creation of Adam painted onto it. The chandelier was shaped like a fountain, with lights instead of a flowing stream of water. His eyes bounced from the ceiling to the floor, which was a glowing marble, that seemed impossible to stain or ruin.

“Quentin, you gotta keep moving. I know it’s a helluva lot to take in, but we gotta power through it. I want you to meet Kady and Penny,” Julia’s voice snapped him out of his trance, as his legs began to move once more as they followed Alice down the hallway littered with paintings, pillars and expensive artifacts. Quentin wanted to study every single bit of this, but he also wanted to meet Julia’s boyfriend and girlfriend.

“I’ll go grab Kady and Penny, if you wish, there is food and drink over there,” Alice simpered, before walking towards the staircases, which came from two sides only to connect at the bottom of the floor. A mezzanine platform stood where the two velvet staircases began.

“Q, you’re drooling,” Julia teased, bumping into his side lightly, her tiny arms still wrapped around his own.

“You could have told me your partners were the world’s richest people,” He muttered, still slightly slack jawed.

“Probably would have been smart, in retrospect,” She giggled, leading them towards the mountain of food and alcohol against the maroon wall. Quentin took a chalice with an embroidered E on it and took a sip of the wine,  _ holy fuck is this good,  _ Quentin practically moaned into the cup.

“I’m guessing he enjoys wine?” A deep and sultry voice spoke from behind him, almost making him choke on the drink. Quentin spun around quickly, coming face to two people. One was a tall, incredibly handsome man; he had warm brown skin, deep brown eyes that once could get lost in, and was dressed in an outstanding green tuxedo, with similar wings as Alice, but an evergreen color. His mask was a swirl of every shade of green, yet he made it work. “I’m taking the lack of response as a yes, anyway, I’m Penny,” He nodded towards Quentin, his face remaining neutral.

“Quentin,” he nodded back, tucking his loose strand behind his ear.

“Kady,” The girl in between Julia and Penny smirked. She was just as mystifying as Alice was, but in a different way. She was a few inches taller than Julia, her eyes were a sturdy green that were speckled with a variety of different colors around their rims, she had a stunning mass of curly, ebony hair that seemed to be a part of her personality. She wore a violet dress that fell to her knees, but was asymmetrical in a way that fit her perfectly. She also had angel wings, which was becoming a common occurance for the hosts of the party. Her mask corresponded to Julia’s, but it was violet and laced with butterflies.

He smiled at Kady before turning to glance at Julia, “I’m so glad I finally got to meet the people who’s made Julia so happy,” He beamed, trying his hardest to embarrass her.

“Thanks Q,” She rolled her eyes, but he knew she appreciated the sentiment. Penny and Kady smiled at Quentin, seemingly genuinely.

“We have heard a lot about you, Q, you do live up to expectations,” Kady grinned, eyeing him over once again, spending a few lingering seconds on his eyes. Quentin shifted uncomfortably, taking another sip of wine to avoid the eye contact. “Your eyes are wicked,” She beamed, after figuring out he was probably uncomfortable with being stared at.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, for real, they are fucking wild, man,” Penny spoke, also eyeing Quentin quizzically. Quentin was almost ready to disappear, once Alice joined them and saved him from the rest of this conversation.

“In a few minutes, Margo and Eliot should make their dramatic entrance,” She sighed, but her eyes were amused.

_ Who’s Eliot? _

“Ah, has Julia told you about our. . . eccentric Eliot?” Alice muttered, her lips forming into a tight smile. Quentin shook his head no, his interest immediately piqued. “Well, he runs things with Margo, incredibly talented and smart. Although, he has interesting ways of going about things. We are similar to a family, I suppose, although not exactly sibling-like, as you can see,” Alice gestured to Penny, Kady and Julia. Penny and Kady rolled their eyes at her, but they didn’t seem annoyed.

“He’ll sure do  _ something  _ interesting with this one,” Penny muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, making Alice elbow him in the ribs. Quentin’s cheeks burned a bit, since he was obviously the subject of conversation.

“Oh, please, Alice. Eliot’s going to be all over him, even if he wasn’t strangely beautiful, his eyes would do it for him,” Kady shrugged, earning her a death glare from Alice.

Quentin was positive his entire face was red, he’s never been talked about quite like this, especially when the person they spoke of wasn’t even around.

“Excuse them, Quentin. Eliot will be intrigued to meet you, as he would the other guests,” Alice smiled, trying not to make him feel weird. He appreciated the sentiment.

“Ah, speaking of the devils.” Kady rolled her green eyes in faux annoyance, making Quentin turn his head towards the mezzanine as two people appeared, strutting luxuriously towards the railing. Quentin felt his breath catch in his throat as he saw the lady standing there, Margo he presumed, she had toffee colored skin, and wore the most elegant, purple dress he’s ever laid eyes on. He would have spent hours staring at her before the man that followed her stepped into his view, Quentin could feel his heart stutter upon looking at him; he was the prettiest, yet handsomest man he’s ever laid hands on, and he can only barely see him from this far away. He wore a lavish, black suit that was decorated with gold patterns that only elevated the ethereal-ness of him. Quentin wanted nothing more than to be able to see his face, but it was covered in a complex, black mask.

“I am so delighted you were all able to join us tonight,” Margo began, her voice was smooth yet determined, in a similar way Alice’s was. Quentin could almost immediately see how those two got together and how they were the only other person alive that could handle the other.

“Indeed, now with us here, let the party begin!” Eliot’s voice was deep, velvety and seductive, like the house itself. Quentin could not tear his eyes away from Eliot, even as he began to walk down the stairs.

“Here, let us introduce you to our gracious hosts,” Alice smiled, reminding Quentin that his incessant staring was quite weird.

He nodded at her, taking a gulp and began twirling his hair around his fingers. He’s never been captivated like that by anyone before, there was an air around that man that screamed ‘your eyes do belong on me’.

“Quentin, meet my Margo.” Alice’s cold, blue eyes were softened, melting upon meeting her girlfriend’s. Quentin offered her his hand, which she took.

“We have been waiting decades to meet you, Quentin,” Margo grinned, deviously, before wrapping an arm around her girlfriend’s waist.

“This is Eliot,” Margo spoke, but Quentin’s eyes were already locked onto Eliot’s. He had astonishing hazel eyes, encapsulated with long lashes, which were more evident behind his mask. His mask, which had two, golden pegasi on it, should have been the prettiest part of his ensemble, but Quentin quickly came to the realization that  _ he  _ was the ensemble, his outfit was a mere accessory. His face was practically perfect, with a small amount of stubble littering his upper lip and cleft chin; Quentin was pretty sure he’s had wet dreams involving this exact man. Eliot was much, much taller than Quentin, which only added to his suave and intimidation. Quentin wasn’t even sure he was breathing at this point, he was so concentrated on the entirety of Eliot.

“Eliot Waugh,” He simpered, his voice low and seductive. Eliot took his hand, which was littered with rings, and grabbed Quentin’s. Eliot brought Quentin’s hand to his mouth and kissed the top of his hand, as he looked at Quentin behind long lashes, his eyes were dark.

“Q. . .Quentin Coldwater,” Quentin shivered, as Eliot let go of his hand. They never broke eye contact and Quentin could feel the playful, yet serious nature that lurked behind Eliot’s.

“Stop eye fucking the poor child, El. Although, I will admit, he’s outrageously gorgeous,” Margo sighed, her voice nonchalant as she delivered something that made Quentin go a visceral red.

“We are the hosts, we should socialize. I’m sure Quentin will still be here,” Margo rolled her eyes, looking over to Alice before they began to walk away. Quentin was left standing exasperated, still staring at Eliot.

“Mmm, sadly she’s right. I would  _ love  _ to get to know you, Quentin Coldwater. It was nice to meet you,” Eliot grinned, winking at Quentin before turning his heel and walking away from them.

Quentin was almost positive he was about to pass out, no one has ever,  _ ever _ , looked at Quentin with such hunger before. Especially not someone like Eliot.

“When do we get to say ‘I told you so’ to Alice,” Kady muttered, interlocking her fingers with Penny and Julia’s. It earned a chuckle from her two companions, but Quentin couldn’t breathe, let alone form a coherent thought.

“Well, we are going to dance, don’t leave me for Eliot. . . on second thought, go ahead,” Julia teased, pinching Quentin’s cheek playfully before turning away with her partners.

“What the fuck just happened?” Quentin muttered to himself, downing the rest of his wine in one big gulp. He didn’t quite know what to do with himself, so he just went to grab more wine.

He didn’t really realize how long it has been, but Margo and Alice had made their way back to him.

“I’ve known Eliot for an incredibly long time, but I’ve never seen him pull out all the tricks before,” Margo spoke, which caused Quentin to almost spill his wine, for a second time tonight.

“Kady and Penny did say he would be. . . into him,” Alice teased, reaching over to grab Margo’s hand.

“Well, that’s a major understatement. I could have told you months ago that Eliot has been dying to meet our little Quentin here, but when he came looking like this. . . well game over,” Margo and Alice chuckled at their little conversation about Quentin, while acting as if he wasn’t here.

“Yeah, that has never happened to me before. . . like ever. I’m generally surprised when anyone flirts with me, but that was. . .” Quentin trailed off, replaying the event in his mind.

“Pity, really. You are quite the catch,” Margo smirked, tugging at his tie a bit before leaving once more.

Again, time seemed to be inconsequential as he slowly sipped his wine and prayed for Eliot not to come back, or for him to come back. Quentin couldn’t really decide.

“You have good taste in wine,” The velvety voice that had been replaying in his head like a broken record, breathed against his ear. Quentin turned around, almost bumping into Eliot. Eliot grabbed his shoulders before he could knock something over. Eliot eyed him once again, his expression amused with the clumsiness of the shorter man before him.

“Th. . . thanks,” Quentin muttered, his heart pounding incredibly hard and fast, which scared Quentin; he had an arrhythmia, which caused his heart to always be pounding a little faster than what was considered normal. Oddly enough, it has never presented itself to be a danger to him, it just was.

“So, Quentin, your good friend Julia has made her way into our hearts. She’s a kind soul, I quite like her,” Eliot began, while gracefully grabbing a chalice of wine and placing it on his lips. Quentin’s eyes studied the movement like his life depended on it, which plastered a smile on Eliot’s lips.

“Yeah, she’s great. We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. . . I’m glad she’s found some people that have made her happy.”

“How sweet of you to say, you must really care about her,” Eliot commented, before taking a long gulp of the blood red wine. “But, I’m interested to learn more about you, Quentin Coldwater. Who is that person behind that pretty little mask you have on?” Eliot questioned, his voice getting evidently lower as he leaned closer to Quentin’s face. Quentin bit his lip and noticed the way Eliot’s eyes traced the movement with the utmost importance.

“Well, I mean, no one special really,” Quentin began, stepping back from Eliot to take more wine. He was going to need it for this conversation.

Eliot frowned, his perfectly plucked eyebrows furrowing, “I simply can’t believe that’s true.”

“Well, I guess you could tell, but I have a case of heterochromia,” Quentin flushed, mentally slapping himself for picking the world’s most obvious thing about him.

Eliot’s eyes raked him up and down before they decided to land on Quentin’s, “You do, they’re quite mesmerizing, similarly to the rest of you.”

Quentin blushed, looking down at the glossy tile below him. Quentin wasn’t sure if he was ready to look back up again, but he did anyways.

“And. . . well, I’m a history buff, with a preference for mythology and fantasy,” This must have interested Eliot, for his eyebrow flew upwards, placing a hand against the wine table to lean against it.

“I also have this weird thing. . .  where I can tell when someone’s telling the truth or not.”

“Really?” Eliot questioned, taking a step closer towards Quentin, a curious glint glistening in his eyes. Quentin smiled sheepishly, his breath hitching at the sudden closeness. “Hmm, well, when I say I find you to be incredibly gorgeous and appealing, am I telling the truth?”

Eliot was standing too close to Quentin now, he could feel his breath against his forehead as Eliot looked down at him. Quentin looked up at him and saw those dark eyes behind the long lashes from before, and his stomach twisted.

“You. . .you. . you’re telling the truth.” Quentin blinked a few times, trying to remember how to breathe.

“Mmm, nice to know that little detail works, but I wonder what other things work. . .” Eliot’s breath was hot against his ear, his words, his voice, and his breath would resonate with Quentin forever. Eliot took a step back, pleasantly pleased with himself.

Quentin brought a shaky hand to his chalice and lifted it against his lips, trying not to let his knees buckle from under him. Once he got composure of himself, he tried to formulate a sentence, but it was increasingly difficult from the way Eliot stared at him.

“What about you, Eliot Waugh. Who are you?” Quentin had no idea what brought on this surge of confidence or how he played it off like he wasn’t just rendered speechless.

“Someone important, I suppose. I live here with the rest of my ‘family’ and we run a few businesses and such. Margo and I are the face of things round here, but we are all quite important,” Eliot began, not stumbling over his words, a small smile dancing on his lips.

Quentin would listen to Eliot talk about anything for hours,  _ what the literal fuck is wrong with me? You just met him and you already have the biggest school girl crush on him. _

“Now, Quentin, Julia never talked about you having a girlfriend or boyfriend as of late, why is that?” Eliot seemed concerned in a sense, but mostly he seemed curious.

“Well. . . um. . .my brain loves to break sometimes and I can’t really be with someone during that time. . .I can barely be with myself. I’ve been getting better, though,” Quentin explained, rather quickly, not enjoying to dwell on this topic. Quentin wasn’t quite sure why he was explaining this to a stranger, but he had lost any sense of self-control while talking to this stranger.

“I’m sorry Quentin. I understand that to an extent. . . my life before the glamor was quite tragic, really. I grew up in a town where being who I was, was the worst mistake of my life,” Eliot’s voice was soft and so were his eyes. Quentin’s heart panged; he knew that Eliot spoke the truth and wasn’t telling some story in attempts to make him feel better.

“I’m. . .I’m so sorry Eliot,” Quentin reached over to place his hand on top of Eliot’s in condolence, “Well, for what it’s worth, whoever you actually are seems to be pretty wonderful.”

A flash of confusion passed over Eliot’s features before he smiled down at Quentin; the smile was the most genuine thing Quentin had ever seen on anyone, it was like Eliot took those simple words to heart.

“How bout I show you,” Eliot beamed, removing his hand from under Quentin’s, to grip his mask. Quentin’s breath caught in his throat, staring intently at Eliot’s face, desperate to see the creature behind the mask.

In one swift motion, the mask was removed. Quentin carefully became acquainted with Eliot’s entire face, from his perfect pale skin to the shape of his lips. Quentin was now, 100 percent sure, he’s never laid eyes on a more irresistible human being.

Eliot chuckled at Quentin’s astonishment, “I’d like to see the rest of that pretty face of yours, Quentin.”

Quentin set his cup down before reaching up to remove his mask, his usual anxiety and self-consciousness had completely dissipated, for he could only think, feel or breathe Eliot. He felt the mask fall from his face into palm; Quentin felt naked, allowing Eliot to read and gaze at Quentin’s face.

“And I thought you were beautiful before,” Eliot’s voice was quiet, as he made sure he looked at every inch of Quentin’s face. Quentin remained still, allowing Eliot to inch closer, to get a better look at Quentin’s features. Quentin tried to remember what his own face looked like, while Eliot stared at it like it was a priceless painting; Q had a fine jaw, pale skin, an ever constant blush on his cheeks, a pointy nose, and sad, puppy eyes. Eliot was standing as close as he could to Quentin without actually touching him, his hand slowly finding its way to Quentin’s cheek. “So soft. . .” Eliot muttered, mostly to himself. Quentin leaned into his hand, finding the contact to create electricity in his cheeks, but he also found it comforting. Quentin hadn’t realized that Eliot was leaning closer and closer to his face before he caught the same dark look of hunger in his eyes as they stared intently on his lips. Quentin felt his eyes flutter shut in anticipation, craving the feeling of Eliot’s lips against him, the way he would melt under the touch.

“While I hate to interrupt this moment, you are required to dance at least once,” Quentin’s eyes flew open, acutely aware of how close Eliot’s lips were to his own. He wanted to just tip his toes forward and close the distance, but he was paralyzed where he stood. Eliot looked at Quentin for a moment before taking a step back, putting his mask back on his face, a mischievous smile plastered on his lips.

“Quentin, may I have this dance?” Eliot bowed, offering his arm to Quentin. Quentin smiled at him, the ‘almost-kiss’ slipping from his mind as Quentin linked his arm around Eliot’s. “I’m quite sorry about Margo,” Eliot murmured into Quentin’s ear as they made their way to the dance floor, “She has a tendency to ruin intimate moments. . . hopefully she won’t repeat that. . . Especially since I’m planning to take you to dinner Sunday night.”

Quentin’s eyes widened, almost tripping over his own feet, “Dinner?”

Eliot chuckled, side-eyeing him, “I like you Quentin Coldwater and I would rather enjoy another chance to sweep you off your feet.” Quentin’s cheeks bloomed red, as he looked down in attempts to hide the bright blush.

“I’d. . .I’d like that a lot, actually,” Quentin spoke, meaning every little word. He hadn’t realized that Eliot would want more to do with him after tonight, but the fact that he did, created a swarm of butterflies in his stomach.

“Well it’s settled then. I’ll pick you up around six,” Eliot spoke nonchalantly, quickly placing his hands on Quentin’s hips, twirling him around, so that he was facing Eliot. “I’ll lead,” Eliot quirked his eyebrow, grabbing Quentin’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Quentin. The soft music boomed louder than before as a multitude of couples made their way to the dance floor. Eliot began moving the two in a rhythmic pattern, taking the occasional moment to twirl Quentin around, causing a throaty chuckle to erupt from Quentin. “What about you isn’t utterly adorable, Mr. Coldwater?” Eliot teased, pulling Quentin back towards him. Quentin grinned at Eliot, his eyes scrunching up, another giggle flying out of his mouth as Eliot twirled him around once again.

“I’m just surprised I haven’t stepped on your feet yet.” Quentin’s mouth quirked up into a half smile.

“Well, your clumsiness is just an added bonus,” Eliot smiled, gripping Quentin’s hip a bit tighter, to pull him closer. They were almost touching once again and Quentin’s heart rate spiked, his breath remaining uneven. Eliot must have taken notice of his reaction, for a devious glint played in his eye. Quentin and Eliot stayed in this position for the rest of the dance, their bodies almost touching as they swayed to the alluring music.

“Hey, Q,” Julia’s voice rang from behind him, snapping him from the trance of being in Eliot’s embrace. “It’s about time to go,” She smiled sadly at him, probably feeling awkward to ruin this moment between them.

“She’s right, I’ll see you again soon, Quentin,” Eliot gave him a small smile before releasing him.

“Yeah. . .” Quentin began, but Eliot had already disappeared.

“Q, you sly dog. You got Eliot motherfucking Waugh to be drooling over you,” Julia giggled, grabbing his hand and leading him back towards the front door. “So, tell me everything,” Julia demanded looking at Quentin with pure excitement on her face.

Quentin chuckled, “I. . . I don’t really how everything happened honestly. After you left with Kady and Penny, he came back and we started talking. He. . . he was weirdly interested in everything about me. He even called me beautiful and, and almost kissed me.” Quentin’s head jostled

“Shut the fuck up,” Julia practically screamed once they were outside the mansion. “I told you you were hot as all shit and I’m glad someone like Eliot took notice. You were literally fawning over him the moment you saw him.” Quentin hadn’t noticed this earlier, but Julias lipstick had been messed up exponentially, her hair was slightly disheveled, and she was practically skipping back to the car.

“Sure, go ahead and act like  _ I  _ was the only one who got seduced tonight.” Quentin crossed his arms and turned his head away from her, practically scoffing at her.

“Quentin Makepeace Coldwater!” Julia whacked his head, causing them both to end up in a fit of giggles. “I might have had some fun with Kady and Penny. . .” Julia trailed off, a reminiscent look in her eye as she bit her lip.

“Gah, I do not want to hear anything about that,” Quentin shuttered, turning the key into the ignition. Julia’s Volkswagen roared to life, a gentle hum of the engine indicating the car was ready to go.

“So, you’re going on a date with him? God, it seems like we have a way of sweeping millionaires off their feet. What a useful superpower.” Julia reached up to the car and gave it a good pat before Quentin drove away, already full of nervous energy.

Quentin laughed, “I am, yeah. Sunday. I’m going to need your help again Jules. He can’t know that I know next to nothing about fashion.”

“Don’t worry Q, I gotcha covered.” Julia put her feet up against the headboard, leaning back in the seat. Quentin sighed in contentment, he hasn’t felt this vigor, this want to wake up and experience the next day, since he can remember. So, he was marvelling in the fact, marvelling in every moment he spent with Eliot, and marvelling in the ones to come.


	2. of the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quentin and Eliot go on a date, Julia's a literal gem, and we see more of our other fanged friends

Quentin began pacing around Julia’s bedroom, whacking his kneecap into the side of her bed, “Fucking fuck!” He reaches over to grab his kneecap and sit down on her plump, queen sized bed.

“Do not injure yourself before this date, Q!” Julia’s voice was stern, echoing throughout their small apartment. Quentin sighed, leaning back against her bed, thinking of all the ways he could colossally ruin this date and any chance he has with Eliot.

“Aha! I knew I could find something formal among your sweatshirts and black button downs.”

Quentin rolled his eyes, a small smile creeping onto his face. He couldn’t thank Julia enough for helping him get ready for his first date with Eliot; he would forever be in her debt.

“Be nice to my clothes, Jules,” Quentin huffed, sitting back up, staring at the black suit in her hands.

“So, this suit is pretty simple, nothing special happenin’ here. You’ll just have to wear a white undershirt. But, lucky for you, I’m pretty sure I have an adorable pink handkerchief and tie. . . it will accent the suit quite well.” Julia set the suit down next to him, on top of a sequin, purple pillow. “And,” she paused, pushing her head into her closet, “voila!” She pulled out a light pink tie and handkerchief. Quentin began clapping, causing Julia to bow multiple times, a goofy grin plastered to her face.

“Now, go change, and then I will do your hair. Want any makeup on? It seemed like you kind of liked wearing it. . .” Julia fizzled out, suddenly deep in thought as she placed the accessories on top of the suit.

“I did, yeah, mostly because of your amazing artistry. . .  I think i’m going to power through this one bare faced, though.” Quentin bit his lip, praying that he would still be attractive to Eliot without the makeup.

“Alrighty then, now shoo.” Julia grabbed his shoulders and practically shoved him off the bed and out the door. Quentin gave her a glare before she dropped the clothes in his arms and with a wide smile, shut the door on him.

Quentin sighed, walking down the hallway and back into his room, which was small, but he somehow managed to pile tons of fantasy and history books onto the floor and shelf he had. His walls were a simple blue, covered in a few posters and had one window that overlooked a beautiful parking lot. Quentin opened up his closet, to look at the mirror hanging on the inside of the door and began to change. It took him a few minutes, but he actually tied the pink tie.

Quentin came rushing into Julia’s room, a bright smile on his face, “I fucking did it, Jules.”

Julia eyed him, crossing her arms over her chest, only taking a moment to realize what he meant. She immediately lifted her hand for a high five and Quentin reciprocated, their hands crashing into one another.

“I’m so proud of you. . .they grow up so fast,” Julia sniffled, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye. “Okay, hair time, Q.”

Quentin made his way into her bathroom, sitting in the chair he sat in two days ago. Julia began to comb his hair back, making it look slicked back, his ends curling upwards a bit. She then used a type of cream and hairspray and was finished in a matter of minutes.

“Damn, that was fast,” He breathed, standing up to get a good look at himself. He looked sure of himself, confident. His reflection stared back at him and again, Quentin didn’t despise what he saw.

“You look incredibly handsome, Q. Im gonna be with Kady and Penny tonight, so text me if you need me. Love you.” She tiptoed to kiss his cheek.

“Same here. . . text me if you need me I mean, not that I’m going to be with Kady and Penny tonight,” Quentin stumbled, his hands moving dramatically in attempts to escape the hole he dug for himself.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha Q. Now go have fun,” Julia chuckled, waving goodbye to Quentin, before lightly closing her own door to get ready for her night. Quentin took a deep breath, checking his phone to look at the time.

**5:55 pm.**

_ Shit, he’s going to be here soon. . .  _ as if right on cue, the doorbell rang. Quentin shook his head a bit, fixing his tie once more, before heading towards the old, wooden, front door. Quentin opened it slowly, butterflies already bouncing around in his stomach.

“Quentin,” Eliot’s voice rang out, it was like a sweet melody, Quentin had missed his silky tone. He  _ really  _ missed it. Quentin looked up at Eliot, he was wearing a refined maroon vest, underneath a black, long sleeved shirt, that was tight around his toned arms. Quentin noticed the ring of eyeliner above his eyes, making the hazel flare out, he noticed the curly, black hair that Quentin wanted to touch, was slicked back similar to his own hair. “You look ravishing.”

Quentin could feel the blush on his cheeks, knowing that Eliot was speaking truthfully made his heart leap. He smiled at his date, “Same to you.” Eliot’s smile met his eyes, his mesmerizing hazel eyes, that simmered with colors. It was like a painter spilled paint on a canvas and swirled it around, accidentally creating the most beautiful color imaginable.

Eliot offered his hand and Quentin looked at him in wonder for a moment, “You’re allowed to hold my hand, silly.” Quentin took it sheepishly and he was pretty sure the blush on his cheeks wouldn’t leave his face for the rest of the night.

They walked in silence towards Eliot’s car, trying to cement the feeling of Eliot’s hand into his brain. His hand was soft, with long fingers that could do magnifical things, and his middle finger had one detailed ring lying on it. Once they reached the car, Quentin realized that it was practically a limo.

Eliot opened the long, black door for Quentin, “I guess chivalry isn’t dead.” Eliot chuckled at that, stepping into the spacious car after Quentin. The seats were a comfortable leather, but Quentin still found himself bouncing his leg. Eliot took a seat across from him, since this was not a normal car, the seats were like two long couches on either side of the car, facing one another. Quentin presumed there was a bar at the tail end of the inside of the car. Where the front of the car and the driver should be, was a wall with a small window in the center of it, giving the two privacy to do whatever they pleased. Quentin instantly took notice of Eliot’s long legs, which were practically up against his own.

“What’s running through your mind, Q? If you wouldn’t mind me calling you that,” Eliot leaned back lavishly, crossing his elegant legs.

Quentin messed with his hands, “I don’t mind at all,” what Quentin wanted to say was ‘I love the sound of my nickname on your lips’, “and uhm. Well, I can’t seem to get over how good you look. . .”

Quentin watched Eliot’s eyebrows lift up in curiosity, “I could say the same to you.”

“And. . .I really don’t want to mess this date up. I haven’t been this  _ into  _ someone in a long time.” Quentin didn’t know how or why those words flew out of his mouth, but they did.

Eliot leaned forward, placing his hand on top of Quentin’s knee, “Nothing you could do would ruin this. All I ask is that you be yourself.”

Quentin nodded, a smile that garnered his scrunched up eyes appeared on his face, which evidently made Eliot smile. Eliot rubbed his thumb over Quentin’s knee before leaning back once again.

“Tell me more about what you’re into, Q,” Eliot began, tilting his head a little bit, eyes scanning him up and down.

“Well. . . like I said the other day. . .I’m um I’m really into fantasy and history. I’m the worlds biggest geek, to say the least. I’m pretty sure I’ve read all of the  _ Lord of the Rings _ books a solid fifteen times. History, though, has always fascinated me, it just allows me to disappear into other peoples worlds for a while,” Quentin rambled, his face lighting up while talking about the things he loved.

“Adorkable,” Eliot murmured, laughing at his own joke. If this was anyone but Eliot, Quentin would have been annoyed, but the man in front of him only instilled kind and sappy emotions onto Quentin. They continued to talk about everything and nothing all at once, until the limo reached a smooth stop. Quentin saw the door next to Eliot crack open, the limo driver courteously opening it for him before stepping away once more. Eliot got up gracefully, stepping out of the car with ease. Quentin gulped, attempting to get out of the car without falling flat on his face.

Eliot offered his arm to Quentin once more, “Thanks,” and with that they were standing in front of the restaurant.

Eliot opened the large, glass doors with adroitness, and Quentin stared at the restaurant in awe. It was dimly lit, with small lights drooping from the ceiling. The feeble light illuminated the dark red walls, with pink, white, and black roses painted onto each wall. Quentin’s eyes darted around each table and booth, noticing the antique oak tables, with a small, drooping flower placed in a vase as the centerpiece on each table. None of the roses, however, were red, except for one booth in the far back.

“It’s magnifical, isn’t it,” Eliot purred into Quentin’s ear, his voice smoky, as he led them towards the hostess. “Reservation for Waugh.” The hostess smiled at the two, grabbing two sable menus.

“Right this way.” She waved them forward, beginning the trek towards the booth in the far back. With a small placement of the menus, the waitress was gone, leaving Quentin and Eliot alone at the booth. Eliot released Quentin’s arm, which left Quentin with  a cold sensation where it was moments ago. Q slid into one side of the booth, watching Eliot do the same on the other side.

“The rose. . .” Eliot smirked at Quentin, placing his elbows onto the table and held his face with his hands.

“You caught that, huh. After seeing you in that delectable suit, I figured roses were your thing.”

_ They most definitely are now,  _ Quentin twinkled at him, placing his hands on the table.

“You didn’t have to do all this. . .”

“Hush now, I  _ wanted _ to,” Eliot deterred him, a determined look in his eyes, as the waitress came back around asking them what they wish to drink. Quentin ordered a red wine and Eliot did the same.

“I’ve talked a lot about myself tonight. . . I want to know more about you,” Quentin beamed, copying Eliot’s motions from earlier, holding his head in his arms. Eliot rested his head against the cushion of the booth, grazing his lips with his teeth, a small smile playing on his features.

“Well, I have mastered the art of making a cocktail, I quite enjoy singing, and am one hell of a story teller,” Eliot continued speaking, but Quentin got lost in his eyes, his words, the entirety of  _ him. _ Quentin was quickly coming to the realization that he  _ could  _ offer his entire heart to this man. Quentin had never truly been vulnerable enough to do this, too afraid of his own mind and afraid of his partner deserting him. Eliot seemed like the type to love and leave, but Quentin was quickly realizing that when Eliot truly  _ felt  _ something, he would latch onto it and wouldn’t let it go without a fight. “I’ve had enough time to reflect on past mistakes and decisions to realize that going for what I want is more courageous than running away from the possibility of happiness.”

Quentin was stunned upon hearing Eliot’s blunt words, but he could feel how deeply Eliot believed in them, how they were his truth.

“Eliot that’s. . .” Quentin parted his lips slightly, his words failing him.

Eliot smiled fondly at him, placing his hands on top of his, “Deep, personal, with a dark, little cherry on top? Yeah, I know.” It looked like Eliot wanted to say more, but a waitress came around to drop their drinks off and ask for their orders. Quentin rapidly mumbled his to the girl, intent on hearing what else Eliot had to say. Eliot spoke his order opulently,  _ how can he make the most ordinary task the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed? _

“For someone with a shit ton of money, you are annoyingly likeable and down to earth,” Quentin teased, jutting out his bottom lip. Eliot chortled, the laugh resonated with Quentin, warming his chest.

“So, how are you going to obtain that happiness, Eliot?” Quentin tilted his head back slightly, trying to pull off an air of flirtatious confidence.

Eliot squinted his eyes, “Hmm, well, taking you on this date is a step in the right direction,” He paused for a moment, smiling at Quentin’s reddened cheeks, “Then I’d take you on a few more, watch you smile and laugh, maybe I’d even steal a kiss or two.” Quentin puffed out a laugh at his sentimentalism, but was hoping he’d keep to his words.

“I think that’s a very foolproof plan.”

“As do I.”

Eliot and Quentin continued to speak of their interests, experiences, embarrassments, and everything in between. Quentin was so lost in Eliot’s story that he hadn’t noticed their meals being placed in front of them. He could feel the wet, hot steam hit his throat, but he was so immersed in Eliot’s movements, expressions, and lips that it barely phased him.

“I refuse to believe that anything embarrassing has ever happened to you. . . like ever,” Quentin quarreled, twirling his fork around multiple of noodles.

“I’ve been around for a long time, Q. You would be surprised of the amount of times I have made an utter fool of myself.” Quentin scoffed at him, placing the food into his mouth, washing it down with a bit of wine.

“Sure,” Quentin exaggerated, messing with him; Quentin was fully aware that he was telling the truth, but this little game they were playing was much more fun. They ate in silence for a few moments, Quentin’s tastebuds dancing around the wondrous taste of the pasta he ordered.

“While being your own personal lie detector, do you have any other superpowers, Coldwater?” Eliot quirked his eyebrow at him, Quentin almost choked on the pasta, the way Eliot said his last name was beyond provocative and was most definitely something Quentin would need to hear more of in the future.

“Um. . . well I have really good eyesight in my right eye. . . and I uh have this really weird issue with my blood that’s really complicated and difficult to explain. . . and lastly, but not least, I have arrhythmia that doesn’t harm me in any way. Let’s just say I’m not normal, but also, outrageously boring.” Quentin lamented, Eliot paused for a moment, his eyes going wide, like he had come to some sort of realization. “You okay, El?” Quentin asked, worry creeping into his expression.

“Yes, sorry about that. . . and what a nice nickname you’ve chosen for me,” Eliot smoothed his complexion once again, the worry seeping from Quentin’s tense shoulders.

“I, yeah, I mean. . .” Quentin stumbled, shoving his glass of wine to his lips to escape the flub of a sentence he produced. Eliot gave him a small smile, enjoying his awkwardness.

“Don’t worry, Q, it’s just a nickname. Although, I could think of a few other things I wouldn’t mind you calling me. . .” Eliot’s sly smile and mischievous glint in his eyes made Quentin’s breathing hitch, his entire body freezing for a moment.

“You two doing okay, need anythin’?” Their waitress asked, giving Quentin a worried glance as Eliot reassured her they were fine. “Interested in any desserts?” She asked, instantly charmed by Eliot’s soft smile and looks.

Eliot told her they wanted to share a molten cake, which made Quentin’s mouth water just thinking about it, “I hope that’s okay, it’s stupidly delicious.” Quentin nodded, crossing his ankles, and placing his hands on top of the table once more, secretly hoping Eliot would touch them again.

“Where did you find this place? I meant to ask. . .” Quentin licked his lips, fiddling with his thumbs.

“I’ve been here a few times, since Margo, Alice, Penny, and Kady all felt bad that I wasn’t getting ‘any action’ as they put it,” Eliot sighed, rolling his eyes at the memory. Quentin chortled, smoothing his hair back into place.

“I refuse to believe that you can’t get action. . . with anyone you want.”

Eliot tilted his head to the side, a frisky glint in his eyes, “I could say the same to you.”

“That’s funny, Eliot.”

“Trust me Q, with those eyes of yours, that charming personality and tight ass, you could have anyone eating out of the palm of your hand,” Eliot’s voice was stern, his perfect teeth shining through a small smile.

Quentin’s cheeks burned a fiery red, “Eliot!”

“What? I’m just telling the truth,” Eliot taunted, his malevolent smile only growing bigger. Quentin looked down at his large, soft hands, trying to control his emotions.

“Enjoy!” The waitress breathed, a small clink echoing from the contact the plate had to the table. The dessert smelled heavenly, chocolate oozing from any crack in the cake it could find, a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream plopped on top of it. Two silver spoons were placed on the plate. Quentin grinned in excitement, not remembering the last time he’s eaten something that looked this good.

They both dug in and Quentin practically moaned as the chocolate melted on his tongue. He was so submerged into the dessert he hadn’t noticed the dribble of melted chocolate dripping from his lips. Quentin made eye contact with Eliot and became incapacitated; Eliot was staring intently at that little bit of chocolate, his hand inching closer to Quentin’s face. Eliot lightly grabbed Quentin’s chin, swiping his thumb across Q’s lips, in attempts to clean the chocolate. The movement was slow and Eliot didn’t allow Quentin to break eye contact as Eliot brought his finger to his lips and licked the chocolate off of it.

“Isn’t it just delicious,” Eliot’s voice was quiet, yet enthralling, as he slowly brought his thumb down his lips; Quentin’s pupils were blown, his adams apple bobbing slightly, having to bite down on his bottom lip as Eliot looked at him like that.

“Very. . .” Quentin’s voice was husky, his breathing erratic. Eliot’s devious smile never left his lips, as he called the waitress over for the check. Quentin was practically light headed as he watched Eliot side-eye him, amused.

“You. . .you don’t have to pay for me,” Quentin murmured, trying to collect himself for the millionth time tonight.

“My treat, Q. If you want, you can pay next time.” Quentin smiled, already used to Eliot’s inherent smoothness and his ability to go from seducing him to making him giggle in the matter of seconds.

“I like the sound of that. . . how bout we go to one of my favorite cafe places?” Quentin suggested, shrugging his shoulders a bit in faux nonchalance.

“That’s perfect.” Eliot’s mouth quirked upwards a bit, pulling out his wallet and preparing to pay for their meal.

After the meal was paid for, Quentin slid out of the booth, stretching his legs and arms. Eliot smiled at him fondly, his eyes soft and full of affection as he watched Quentin stretch his limbs.

Eliot reached out to grab Quentin’s hand intertwining their fingers together. Quentin crimsoned as Eliot tugged Quentin to his side, unlacing their fingers to wrap his long arm around Quentin’s shoulder. Quentin wanted to curl up against his side and stay there for a long time, he fit so perfectly against Eliot.

“I hope you can get used to public displays of affection,” Eliot turned his head to whisper in Quentin’s ear, causing shivers to splinter down Quentin’s spine.

“I adjust pretty quickly.” Quentin felt true contentment in Eliot’s presence, the humid air breezing against his skin, causing his hair to fall into his face. Eliot’s car was waiting for them, it’s sleekness shimmering in the moonlight; It would have blended into the night if it wasn’t for the glossiness of the car.

They situated themselves into the back of the vehicle, Quentin much more at ease compared to the beginning of the day, as he sat himself next to Eliot instead of across from him. Eliot was eager to intertwine their fingers once again, bringing a light kiss to each of his knuckles, which brought Q fond memories of his first interaction with Eliot.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did,” Eliot murmured, tugging Quentin closer to him, so their sides were touching once more. Quentin hummed in delight, staring at Eliot’s lanky fingers as they curled around his own. “I also hope you know that this was one of the best dates I have ever had.”

Quentin’s heart stuttered, Eliot’s words ringing true in his ears.

“I. . . yeah I. . .  this was the best date I’ve ever had.”

“I’m going to consider that a challenge.” Eliot shook Quentin with his laughter, causing butterflies to bloom in his stomach; he loved the sound of Eliot’s laugh, how it reverberated through the air and through him.

Quentin snuggled against Eliot’s side as he watched Eliot comfortingly rub his thumb against Quentin’s hand, their silence the opposite of awkward. Once the car stopped, Quentin sighed, not ready to leave Eliot’s presence.

“If it works with you, how bout we visit that cafe you talked about tomorrow.” Eliot’s voice was calming as he gave Quentin’s hand a gentle squeeze before the car’s door opened for them. “Let me walk you to your door.”

“You’re a bit of a sap, aren’t you?”

“Let’s just say I appreciate  _ some _ romantic cliches,” Eliot giggled, helping Quentin out of the car. Quentin led Eliot back to his front door, their hands still interlocked, as he stopped in front of it.

Quentin’s back was facing the door as Eliot towered in front of him, “Sadly, this is where we must part,” Eliot’s voice was tinged with his own version of despair as he let go of Quentin’s hand.

Quentin took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of confidence he had and got upon his toes. His eyelids fluttered shut as he kissed Eliot’s cheek; it was a short kiss, chaste almost. Quentin stepped away from him, a small grin plastered to his face, his back hitting the door.

Eliot’s eyes widened and an air happiness swirled around him, that unbridled giddines only lasting a moment, before he began to close the distance between Quentin and himself. Eliot brought his hands to the side of Quentin’s neck, a light, feathery touch that sent shocks through Quentin’s skin. Eliot hesitated for a moment, scouring Quentin’s eyes, finding a curious and innocent gaze. Eliot’s eyes fluttered shut as his lips met Quentin’s, Quentin melted under the kiss, every joint in his body relaxing under Eliot’s touch. It was just as soft and chaste as the kiss to the cheek, but this held a promise: we  _ will  _ do this again, for I adore everything about you. Quentin felt everything pause for a moment, Eliot’s supple lips becoming Quentin’s only coherent thought. Eliot pulled away slowly, his eyes full of affection as he gazed down at Quentin. He began to rub his thumb against Quentin’s neck and touched his forehead to Q‘s, trying to instill every ounce of feeling he had into his every minute moment. They stood like that for a few moments, intimate and kind,  _ truly  _ appreciating one another. 

Eliot slowly pulled his hand away from Quentin’s neck, his fingers creating sparks as they trailed across his skin, “Goodnight, Quentin.” With one final smile, Eliot turned away from Quentin and walked out of his line of sight.

Quentin grinned, his head falling back against the door as he brought his fingers up to trace his lips. His heart still pounded against his ribcage as Eliot’s face, his lips, his hands, his voice bloomed inside Quentin’s head. Quentin was genuinely happy in this moment with red cheeks and a warm chest; he was falling for Eliot Waugh and he was beyond okay with that.

#

_ Eliot _

Eliot brought the bitter cigarette to his lips, puffing a long cloud of smoke, his hand lazily falling out of the car’s window. He shut his eyes, the night’s events becoming an interactive movie behind closed eyelids. He had to make sure he would never forget the feeling of making Quentin Coldwater blush, of making Q’s eyes crinkle when a genuine smile crossed his features, and of making Quentin’s heart pound or stutter, simply because he looked at him in a certain manner. Quentin’s scent was already burned into his mind, for it was one of dusty, old books one would find in the heart of a library and a lingering scent of peaches that radiated from Q’s long, lithe hair. Eliot had also memorized every detail of his face, from his long and curled eyelashes, the sad, puppy eyes that could widen with every emotion, the beautiful juxtaposition in his eye colors, the laughter lines that gave his crooked smile character, the sharp, yet soft jaw and adams apple that bobbed lightly when he was aroused or nervous, and his lips, which were wide, pink, and melded perfectly against his own.

Eliot’s eyes snapped open, an all too familiar scent riddling his senses and short-circuiting any thought he previously had. His entire body lit up, every fiber of his being screaming at him to jump out the car and quench the flames that licked at his throat. 

The scene was gone within a blink of an eye, but Eliot could see, could smell, could hear  _ all  _ of it. The injury was minor; it was merely a graze of the flesh, but it was enough. The gash was garnishing the person‘s skin, a tiny stream of blood falling down their shin. Eliot could feel his self-control waver, could feel the change in his eye color, the fangs that threatened to pierce his bottom lips. Eliot could deal with the sight of blood, but the smell, the  _ smell _ , it was that of the most grandiose wine to someone who has gone days without a drop of liquid, it was that of the purest concentration of ambrosia, being dangled in front of a god, it taunted Eliot, it practically  _ called  _ out to him.

Eliot hissed, taking a vicious puff of his cigarette before shoving the fiery tip into his palm; the pain didn’t phase him, calmed him down, rather. He watched his skin hiss at the injury, a vicious red blister forming on his palm. Eliot threw the cigarette out the window before rolling his window up. He took a deep breath of the untainted air, giving himself a few moments to calm down once more. He spent the rest of the car ride filling his lungs with clean air and keeping his thoughts on anything  _ but  _ the most delectable scent. 

“We’ve arrived, master Waugh,” His driver spoke, his voice hoarse with old age. Eliot was itching to get out of the car, to be immersed with scents that wouldn’t throw him off the deep end. He flicked his hand, the door flying open swiftly, allowing him to be hit with the smells and taste of dirt, vanilla, and a potent floral perfume

“Hello, Bambi,” Eliot smiled, stepping out the car to place his hands on her hips. She looked up at him with a dubious look in her dark set eyes. He pressed a small kiss to her forehead, “Something on your mind?” 

“Matter of fact, yes. Is pretty boy Quentin Coldwater our mystical half-vamp?” Margo’s voice was cold, emotionless, as she intertwined her fingers with Eliot’s. A gesture that would usually bring him comfort only made him ache for Quentin’s soft hands. “If he is, is he really this all powerful creature thing? I can’t see that kid being able to tie his own shoes without falling flat on his face.”

Eliot chuckled, finally easing into her touch, “He most definitely is, but you have a point there.”

Margo offered her own boisterous chuckle as she led them inside their spacious abode, full of paintings they’ve gathered over the centuries, of sculptures, elder furniture; their home had a certain room dedicated to each of their pasts, so they would never completely forget the lives they lived as humans. Eliot flicked his wrists, opening the large, french doors separating the living room from the main hallway and open area. Eliot came across his family, sitting on their sofa, which was long, lavish, silky, and made for kings.

“Brilliant, all you have to do now is swoon that boy and get his ass over here,” Margo’s voice was joking, but Eliot’s jaw clenched; he knew their plan from the beginning: confirm that Quentin Coldwater was the half-breed, seduce him, and use him as leverage against other clans. He didn’t expect to meet  _ Quentin Coldwater; _ the rug was immediately swept from under him, once he saw those eyes, those  _ lips _ , his hair in that braid, all attached to  _ that  _ body.

Margo paused for a moment, catching the pained and reverent look in Eliot’s expression, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re falling for him?”

“Sure looks like it,” Penny chuckled, Kady pulling an arm around his waist to pull him closer to her; they were seated at the far left of the velvet couch, Penny’s feet pressed against the intricate, gold frame that held the couch up.

“ You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him, El! That makes him more important than he needs to be,” Margo pouted, zooming to her girlfriend’s lap, resting her head on top of Alice’s pale legs; they were sitting on the opposite end of the couch as Alice ran circles into Margo’s palm to soothe her.

Eliot crossed his arms, watching his entire family belittle him, “Maybe he was already that important.”

“Oh, he’s in deep,” Penny laughed, pretending to swoon, the small movement jostling the entire couch ever so slightly. Eliot rolled his eyes, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Well, we are going to have to rearrange our plans then.” Alice looked down at Margo the same way Quentin looked at Eliot, causing a pang to run through Eliot’s chest.

“I mean, we made room for Julia. Why does Quentin have to be any different?” Kady shrugged, placing Penny’s head on her lap. 

“Cause this kid holds some untold Big Bad level baggage, according to that damn prophecy. If we didn’t care about him, we wouldn’t mind him getting killed if said evil came into town and enacted some real fucking evilness.” Margo’s words were harsh, but she was simply speaking her concerns. Eliot growled, deep and guttural, a flare of anger igniting inside him.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I do  _ care  _ about him. I thought you would all be understanding, considering. . .” Eliot groaned, pointing at his entire dysfunctional ‘family’ and their respective partners. He glanced around the room trying not to look at his friends, finding the same tall paintings, tall, marble countertops attached to a bar, plasma tv across from the couch, and hardwood floor as there has always been. 

“He’s right, baby,” Alice’s voice was quiet as she ran nimble fingers through Margo’s thick, long locks. Margo practically hummed in her lap, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment.  _ I could be doing that with Quentin,  _ a swell of gooey and sappy emotions filling Eliot‘s system upon the thought.

“I know he is kitty cat. . .” Margo shifted, so she was sitting in Alice’s lap, leaning against her girlfriends chest. “He better make you the happiest man to ever. . . un-live, Eliot.”

Eliot chuckled, he knew Margo well enough to read that sentence as ‘I’m sorry for being bitchy, but I’m just worried about you and our family.’ Margo’s expression grew soft as she looked into Eliot’s eyes, only reassuring her sincerity and concern. 

“He seems to be doing a good job so far,” Kady teased, resting her arms against the frame of the couch. 

“So, tell us about the date!” Alice beamed, switching the conversation on its head, craning her neck to be able to see Eliot from behind Margo. Alice’s pale features were lit with curiosity and caring, two of Alice‘s best traits. 

Eliot rolled his eyes, “It was the nicest one I have had in a solid century. Quentin is kind and genuine in a way I haven’t seen in anyone else before.”

“Fucking rude. I’m sitting right here,” Margo laughed, causing everyone else to burst into a fit of giggles. These moments made Eliot appreciate who he was and who he is, for all of its downsides, he wouldn’t have found a place to call home.

“We really are happy for you, El,” Penny spoke up, an appreciative look in his eyes. Eliot nodded at him, a moment of solidarity between the two.

“He’s quite clueless to who he is, he’s just assumed all of these ‘odd’ tidbits about himself are what they are,” Eliot chuckled, Quentin’s ignorance was endearing, another quality of his Eliot fawned over. “He can tell when someone’s telling the truth or not and I’m sure he has other powers. . . just hasn’t been able to discover them yet.”

“Well, luckily for us, I have a new plan: tell him who he is and what we are, he’ll join our little family if he wants and we all live happily ever after,” Margo muttered, staring Eliot in the eye, fully aware that Eliot was preparing his heart on a platter for Quentin.

“If it only worked that easily,” Kady sighed, messing Penny‘s hair up a bit. They were a prime example of going through hell and back for the people you love; their story was full of pain and hardships, but they eventually found a balance within each other and with Julia Wicker.

“Kady has a point. . . what if he reacts horribly to our little secret?” Alice’s voice of reason scared him, what if Quentin came to realize that he wanted no part of Eliot, of this life? Eliot would understand, sometimes he wished he could have died centuries ago, but Quentin has instilled a newfound hope in him. Quentin was the embodiment of hope, with his wide eyes and small smiles. Eliot already missed him dearly, his warmth, his fast heartbeat, his scent, his  _ everything _ .

“One issue at a time. Just keep doing your ‘Eliot thing’ and we’ll face that problem if it pops up.” Alice pressed a light kiss onto Margo’s neck, causing her to push her head back in contentment. 

A silence fell over the family of vampires as they comprehended every consequence adding Quentin Coldwater to their lives could create, but for Eliot, they would fight those consequences with bared teeth and all the strength they could muster. They would do anything for one another even if that meant risking their lives in the process; they were dysfunctional and outrageously messed up, but they loved each other.

“I got some O Neg in the fridge if anyone wants some,” Margo spoke up, ruining the impending silence. Eliot waved a goodbye before turning away from his family, beginning his trek to the kitchen. His throat has been screaming at him since the date, the ride home only making everything that much worse. He opened the black, stainless steel fridge, the scent of cold blood infiltrating his nostrils. He reached for the canteen, whisking his fingers, the lid popping off. 

Eliot brought the drink to his nose, taking one last waft of the delicacy before taking a sip; his entire mouth buzzed at the sensation, his taste buds craving the rest of the liquid and his throat was screaming at him to down the rest of the drink. He opened one of their many cupboards, pulling a wine glass down, pouring some blood into the glass. With a few simple waves of his hand, the canteen was placed back into the fridge.

“You were right Q,” Eliot began, staring at his reflection in the mirror that hung across from the fridge, “You will never be normal.” Eliot downed the rest of the fluid in one gulp, placing the stained glass on top of the counter before walking away from the maroon eyes that glared back at him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope yall are enjoying this so far! I will hopefully update each week (fingers crossed). much love to you all <3


	3. Two Evils

_ A Few Weeks Later _

_ Quentin _

Quentin never wanted to stop kissing Eliot; it was more than just his soft and perfect lips; it was the way he lit up when Q got on his toes to peck his forehead; it was the way Eliot smiled ever so genuinely when Quentin could only place a kiss to his cheek, and it was the way his mouth melded against Quentin’s, his tongue tracing the inside of Quentin’s mouth, sensual yet passionate.

They sat across from each other, the booth they occupied was in the far back of Quentin’s favorite restaurant. Eliot was keen on going to more of Quentin’s favorite places, to see what he enjoyed in life, what makes him happy. Quentin could practically see him make mental notes of everything Quentin liked; he was slightly scared of what El would do with this information.

“I’ve always wanted to be fed chocolate covered strawberries, always found it cute,” Quentin shrugged, running his thumb across Eliot’s middle finger, the coldness of his ring sending shivers down Q’s spine.

Eliot grinned at him, “And you called  _ me  _ a sap?” Quentin almost melted under his gaze; the way Eliot looked at him made him feel wanted, really wanted. It was an incredulously good feeling that swirled around his chest for hours.

“First of all, that was weeks ago and second of all, it’s because you are,” Q smiled, from ear to ear, weaving their fingers together.

“I love that smile. . .” El muttered, the same affection plastered on his face; his hazel eyes sparkling against the sunlight pouring through the window next to them. The window took up the entire side of the wall, if anyone glanced through, they would be able to see Quentin and Eliot’s domesticity.

“Hm?” Q questioned, his eyebrows furrowing for a moment, trying to understand what Eliot meant.  _ Which smile? I thought I only had one smile? Shit, fuck, shit. _

Eliot shook his head slightly, “It’s a smile I’ve only seen you give me, I’ve been calling it my smile.” Quentin blushed profusely, breaking eye contact, focusing on the rings in the table’s wood. Eliot tipped his face up a bit, forcing him to look up at him, “It may or may not be one of my favorite things ever.” Quentin gave him a crooked smile, his cheeks still a fiery red, as Eliot smiled back at him.

“I have a proposition for you, Q.” Eliot leaned forward, getting incredibly close to Quentin’s face. “Come home with me tonight.”

Quentin’s heart paused, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened. Eliot had never invited him to his house after a date.  _ Holy shit, he’s actually inviting me over? God he has such beautiful eyes- fuck, focus, Quentin. Say something, anything. _

“That. . .I yeah. . . yeah that would be really nice,” Quentin fumbled, falling deeper into Eliot’s dark eyes. Eliot smirked, leaning back once more, their waiter coming over with their check. Quentin’s mind raced, trying to prepare him for the conversation with his family, what possibly being alone with Eliot could lead to, and how to remain calm through it all.

“Ready to leave?” Eliot questioned, stepping out of their little booth. Quentin nodded, trying to remain suave; he ended up ramming his hip into the side of the table, too distracted by Eliot’s proposition to notice where he was walking.

Eliot grabbed his hips, trying to steady him, “While I would love to grab your hips more, Q, please be careful.”

Quentin gave him a silly nod, his mind still not functioning properly as Eliot wrapped his arm around his waist. Eliot led Quentin out of the restaurant and into his car, tightening his grip on Quentin’s waist whenever he thought he may stumble.

“Are you okay, Q? I haven’t seen you this clumsy since the masquerade party.” Eliot sat Quentin on top of his lap, pushing Q’s back against his chest, ignoring the way Quentin’s eyes grew even wider upon the action. He laced both of his arms around Quentin’s waist, resting his head upon Q’s shoulder.

“I. . . uh yeah, I’m fine. . .”

“I know I can’t tell the truth like you can, but that is obviously a lie,” Eliot chuckled, the laugh radiating through Quentin, shaking him slightly.

“Nervous is all,” Quentin’s voice was small as Eliot began to press light kisses up and down his neck. Quentin arched his neck, his eyes closing, humming against the feathery touches.

“About what?”

“Your big house and your family. . . finding me annoying or something,” Quentin rambled, relaxing into Eliot a bit more, searching for his hands  and grasping them like his life depended it on it.

“They  _ will  _ like you, Q. We won’t stay with them for too long, anyway. I wanted to show you my room,” Eliot’s voice was velvety as it brushed against Quentin’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.

The rest of the car ride was hushed tones and gentle touches; Quentin still full of anxiety as they got closer and closer to Eliot’s home. Eliot tried to reassure him, to no avail, Quentin was beyond afraid of making more of a fool of himself in front of Eliot’s family.

“We’re here,” El whispered, tapping Quentin’s thigh. Quentin took a deep breath, hopping down from Eliot’s lap to step out the car. Eliot followed in suit, hovering close behind Quentin as they walked past the intricate garden path and stones that led to his front porch.

“Are you sure I’m not like intruding or anything?” Quentin mumbled, messing with the strands of his hair that had fallen out of the bun he had put it in.

“I promise you you’re not intruding, Q,” El’s voice unwavering as he opened the elaborate and tall front door, revealing the same large and dream-like house he lived in.

“I still forget how fucking rich you are. . .this place is stunning,” Quentin mumbled to himself, taking cautious steps into the home. Eliot laughed, a small click echoing through the halls after he closed the door.

“I’ll show you the living room, where some of my family should be. I heard Kady and Penny were with Julia tonight.” Quentin confirmed with a small nod of his head, his eyes still tracing each painting and tile in the mansion.

Eliot led them to large, windowed French doors; Quentin could see Margo and Alice cuddling on the couch, two wine glasses placed on the coffee table in front of them, a large television in front of them playing a black and white movie. Eliot opened one of the doors for Quentin, gesturing him inside.

“Look who it is, kitty cat!” Margo exclaimed, lifting her head from Alice’s shoulder. Quentin smiled awkwardly, noticing that Alice was in a polar bear onesie and Margo in a matching penguin onesie.

“Quentin! It’s so nice to see you again!” Alice beamed, swiftly stepping off their velvet couch to greet him with a handshake.

“Hey Alice, Margo.” Quentin gave Margo a small wave, trying to stay calm, but the flare in his cheeks gave him away. She walked up next to Alice, even in the onesie she moved with grace and ease. She crossed her arms over her chest, giving him a once over, her expression screaming ‘unimpressed’.

“Don’t take Margo’s indifference personally, she’s like that to everyone. . . everyone but Alice,” Eliot laughed, standing next to Quentin, his closeness calming him a bit. Alice beamed again, tugging at Margo’s onesie lightly, trying to get her to say something.

“I see you got him to come home with you, fucking finally. It only took you about a million dates,” Margo exasperated, earning a disappointed look from Alice. Quentin flushed, giving Eliot a small look. Eliot shrugged, rolling his eyes at his friends.

“Margo, honey, please don’t scare him off. He makes El happy,” Alice growled, poking Margo’s stomach lightly. Margo sighed, giving her girlfriend a prolonged look; it seemed like a conversation without words.

“Sorry,  _ Quentin _ . You do make Eliot  happy, so I thank you for that.” Margo gave him a half smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Quentin shifted nervously, giving her his own awkward smile, he wanted to melt into a puddle and disappear. He despised situations like this, especially since they were uncommon to him. Usually, people were entranced by Quentin and wanted to be around him; he could handle that, but the moment someone showed disinterest or disdain, Quentin’s anxiety grew like a wildfire.

“Uhm, thanks, El makes me happy too.” Quentin could see how much Margo didn’t care about him in her dark brown eyes, the indifference a sharp knife she could easily use to puncture him. Eliot reached over to give Quentin’s shoulder a small squeeze, Quentin wanted to lean into the touch, become one with it, but the conversation at hand prevented that.

“Awe look babe, they’re already using nicknames for each other,” Margo whispered into Alice’s ear, ruffling her dangling earring a bit. Margo stared at Quentin as she said it, obviously aware they could hear every word she was saying.

“Well, we’ll leave you two alone! C’mon Mar, we’re going to miss the best part of the movie. It’s when the doctor finally revitalizes his monster!” Alice gave them a quick smile before shuffling back to the couch, sitting legs crossed, pushing her thick-rimmed glasses further up her nose. She looked extremely interested in the movie as she placed a hefty bowl of popcorn onto her lap, throwing a handful down her throat. Quentin smiled, enjoying her version of ‘nerding out’.

“Don’t break him tonight, El.” Margo twirled her curled, ombre hair in her perfect fingers, feigning innocence. Quentin froze once more, his cheeks reddening even further. Margo laughed at him, kissing Eliot’s cheek before plopping down next to Alice.

Quentin slowly turned towards Eliot, a distraught look on his features, “I’ll give you a tour of the upstairs, c’mon.” Eliot offered his arm, Quentin happily locked his arm with Eliot’s, the same rush of feeling that he got the first night Quentin met Eliot swirling around his chest. Eliot led Quentin back to the central part of his home where the beautiful staircase was. They walked up the left side of the stairs and once they reached the second story, Quentin marveled at its beauty.

“Holy. . . it’s beautiful El,” Quentin mumbled, soaking in the intricate woodwork of the railing, the chandelier glittering within eyesight, two long hallways branching off from the left and right of the stairwell, but the thing Quentin was really transfixed on was the recreation of the starry night plastered on the gray wall. Quentin followed the strokes of the sky with his eyes, trying to find any differentiation in this painting and the real one. “This looks exactly like the real one. . .”

“Mm, thank you,” El smiled, deflecting Quentin’s comment. Eliot started to lead them down the right hallway, a picture separating each door. Each door had a letter or two embroidered on it; Quentin saw a complex and swooping E on an oak door, presumably for Eliot, an M on another for Margo, followed by the rest of the family’s letters, ending with Kady’s. “Each room is dedicated to their lives before we became our interesting family here, the picture in between the rooms is from their hometown,” Eliot explained, gesturing to each door as they began their trek back towards the staircase. Quentin was tempted to grab ahold of the railing separating him from a far fall towards the ground, to feel the texture of the carvings upon his hand.

“El, this place is. . . is. . .” Quentin fizzled off, still trying to soak all of it into his memory.

“Wondrous, magnificent, intriguing, and many other delightful adjectives.” Eliot placed his free hand upon his chest, fawning over his own home.

“I was going to say something like my historical nerd wet dream, but that works too.” Eliot’s laugh was guttural and true, echoing through the halls.

“C’mon Q, let me show you my room,” Eliot breathed, his voice still shaky from laughing. Quentin let Eliot drag him towards the other hallway; this hallway was dimly lit, with small candle-lit lanterns placed on a shelf between each door. These doors were further apart, each a different type of wood, without the letter embroidery. Eliot stopped at the furthest door down, closest to the end of the hallway, “Here we are.”

Quentin could feel his anxiety begin to bubble in his chest once more, but an excitement flittered in his stomach. Eliot let go of Quentin’s arm to open his door; Quentin watched Eliot’s hand lightly twist the doorknob, pushing the door forwards. Quentin was hit with a lingering scent of cigarettes and Eliot’s cologne; it was an incredibly pleasant aroma that Quentin was immediately drawn to. His bedroom walls were a vivacious black, that was illuminated nicely by the moon’s light that shined through two huge, paned windows on the left wall, that could be opened with a simple tug of a handle.

“Come on, Q,” El chuckled, grabbing his elbow to get him inside the bedroom. Quentin was still transfixed on his walls; there were square and rectangular patterns jutting from them. A high hanging, sable candelabra-esque chandelier completed the aesthetic of the room. Above his king-sized bed that was placed against the back wall, was a black-and-white photo of a small town in the country in place of three of the rectangular motif. His gaze eventually reached the bed, which was showcased in pillows and accented by warm grays and browns; it looked outrageously soft. Eliot stepped behind Quentin, his breath hot against Quentin’s neck, as he began to slide Q’s jacket off his shoulder. “Let’s sit down,” Eliot’s voice was quiet, but ever so present in the solemn room.

Quentin looked towards the gray couch that was pressed up against the same wall the windows were on, but in the further back of the room. There was a small, glass coffee table placed in front of the couch. On top of the glass table was a silver bucket, the top part of a champagne bottle sticking out of it, a wilting rose sticking out of the other end, and two champagne glasses sitting neatly next to one another.

“Confident that I would say yes to coming home with you, huh?” Quentin licked his lips, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

“Oh, I had no doubt in my mind that you would say yes,” Eliot’s voice was light-hearted as he drifted around the room, landing in front of his wide shelf that housed vinyls upon vinyls. The record player sat on top of the white shelf. “Hm, what a wonderful song,” Eliot spun around the room, gracefully, his vest flowing with the rest of his tall frame. Quentin was mesmerized as he watched his limbs work together to move him.

“Clair de Lune? A classic,” Quentin smiled as Eliot stopped twirling once he was in front of Quentin, a joyous aura about him. He pulled Quentin close to his body, weeks ago Quentin may have felt beyond nervous and uncomfortable, but now Quentin felt at home in Eliot’s arms. Eliot draped his arms over Quentin’s shoulders, forcing Quentin to grab Eliot’s hips.

“Is dancing becoming  _ our  _ thing?” Eliot laughed, swaying them to the classical music.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Quentin replied, biting his lip. They remained close and intimate throughout the entire song, laughing and consuming the contact like it was their last meal. Once the song hit it’s last note, Eliot shifted one of his hands onto Quentin’s back, allowing Quentin to dip downwards, one leg flying in the air. “El!” Q shouted, a shocked look on his face. Eliot gave out a small chuckle before leaning down to meet Quentin’s lips. Quentin’s eyes were already closed when he melted under Eliot’s lips, grasping the back of his neck just to make sure Eliot wouldn’t disappear. It was a soft kiss, full of passion and unspoken love, similar to their first kiss. Eliot pulled away shortly, placing Quentin back on his feet. Quentin was so dazed from the kiss, that he hadn’t noticed Eliot bringing them towards his couch.

“Have I ever told you that you’re an amazing kisser, Quentin?” Eliot grinned, he was always content with the effect he had on Quentin. Eliot popped open the bottle of champagne, the beige liquid flowing into the glasses. Eliot handed Quentin the fizzing drink, Quentin smiled at him, their hands brushing from the transference.

“Maybe once or twice.”

“I should say it more often, then. Cheers.” El’s knees touched Quentin’s the same time their glasses did. The drink slid down Q’s throat with ease, it was a sweeter champagne, which made his sweet tooth incredibly happy. They sat in contempt, just enjoying each other’s company, as another song began to fill the air of the room.

“And Margo tried to tell me that I wouldn’t be a fantastic boyfriend,” Eliot shook his head, his curly hair shifting slightly.

Quentin turned towards Eliot, “Boyfriend?” The word felt like fireworks on his tongue. The word boyfriend, albeit a simple title, would make things official. Quentin didn’t realize how bad he wanted to call Eliot his boyfriend until that very moment.

“Where are my manners,” Eliot began, pulling out the rose from it’s ice covered resting place, “Quentin Coldwater, will you be my boyfriend?”

Quentin cackled, “I would love to be your boyfriend, Eliot Waugh,” Eliot shifted the rose into his hand, putting his other hand against Quentin’s neck to bring them in for another kiss.

“There is one thing I have been wanting to tell you. . .” Eliot began, the moment he pulled away from Quentin’s face.

“Fire away.” Quentin nodded, his eyes boring into Eliot’s.

“I. . . have a special power of my own, I was just afraid you’d find it weird.”

Quentin raised his eyebrows, his mouth forming a small ‘o’, “I told you I could tell when people were telling the truth and you didn’t question it for a second. Nothing you could say would weird me out, I promise. I am incredibly open-minded.”

Eliot gave a short laugh, his eyes not leaving Quentin’s, “I am more or less telekinetic.”

Quentin’s eyes widened, “You gotta show me.” Quentin’s voice and expression was full of excitement and curiosity, he was practically shaking with elation.

“You astound me, Quentin,” Eliot joked, before becoming serious. He gave Quentin one more look before stretching his arm forward; Quentin watched him concentrate on the vase placed upon his bedside table, his fingers slowly moving upwards. Quentin sat in awe as the vase began to hover in the air.

“Holy living hell.” The vase dropped back down, a small clank reverberating upon its contact with the table.  Quentin was stupefied, his champagne glass almost slipping through his fingers. “How?” Quentin shakily turned his head towards Eliot; his expression was that of a deer in headlights.

“It’s a very long story that I will explain in time, but for now, let’s just enjoy each other’s company. . .” Quentin was bursting with questions, but the way Eliot eye’s tantalizingly trailed Quentin’s form as he took a sip of champagne stopped any sort of discernment he had. Quentin could spend the rest of his life with Eliot, but he would never be able to resist Eliot’s dark and flirtatious deterrent. Eliot snaked closer to Q, his tongue running along his lips in determination. Quentin gaped at him, his mouth slightly parted as he waited for Eliot to make whatever move he was planning to make.

Eliot’s hand curled around his neck, his lips crashing against Quentin’s with a passion unlike Q’s ever seen before. Quentin haphazardly put his drink back on the table, while trying to face Eliot. He returned the kiss, struggling to keep up with Eliot’s ravenous nature; he wrapped his fingers in Eliot’s curls, a small smile appearing on his lips. Eliot pulled away for a moment, a smile shimmering in amber eyes, before bringing his lips back onto Q’s.

It was quick movements from then on, Eliot’s lips hungry against Q’s; Quentin practically moaned against the feeling of Eliot’s teeth grazing his bottom lip, of his tongue exploring the flavors and feelings of Quentin’s. Eliot’s knee had already made it’s way between Quentin’s legs, Quentin was only partially sitting up before Eliot had made the move to straddle his hips. Quentin stared at him like he was a god; his hair disheveled, his pupils blown, his perfect lips red and plump.

Quentin practically tore Eliot’s vest off his shoulders; it flew to the ground, landing in a unkempt pile. With shaky hands, Quentin tried to unbutton El’s shirt, fumbling. Q wanted to feel Eliot’s supple skin under his hand, to kiss him practically everywhere, to let Eliot know he  _ wanted  _ him in every way possible.

“Dumb. . . buttons,” Quentin heaved, out of breath.

“Maybe I can help with that,” Eliot purred, trailing the line of buttons with his pointer finger, all the buttons coming undone in a prompt movement. A large grin spread across Q’s face, his hands quick to remove the button up from his body.

Q’s hands hovered above Eliot’s chest; he wanted to soak all of Eliot in, stare at him forever, “You’re so beautiful.” Quentin’s words were raw, encompassing every single emotion he had for Eliot in a short sentence.

“I thought that’s what you were,” Eliot’s voice was muffled as he pressed tender kisses to Quentin’s neck. Quentin’s eyes practically rolled back into his head as he arched his neck back to give Eliot more room to place kisses up and down his neck.

Quentin was only slightly jostled by the movement of his shirt flying over his head, his cheeks flushed as Eliot took the turn of staring at him like he was the prettiest thing on the planet. Quentin’s attention was rapidly averted back to Eliot’s lips as they smashed against his own.

Quentin wasn’t entirely sure how it got so heated so quickly, but he could tell by the intensity Eliot sucked on his neck, that he was going to be covered in love bites later. It also dawned on him that he was intoxicated by the idea of El ‘marking’ him this way; he would happily be covered in anything that reminded the world he was Eliot’s. Quentin was in a state of bliss, his blunt nails scratching down his smooth back, as Eliot’s tongue dances around his neck. It was beautiful and practically perfect until a sharp, jagged pain formed across his neck. He brought a hand to his neck, feeling the light indents of a pair of teeth, he wiped his hand across the pulsating pain. His palm was splashed in a billow of blood; it was a scintillating scarlet, the sight of it making his stomach quease uneasily.

He looked towards Eliot and what he found was a monstrous sight; Eliot’s mushy hazel eyes had become a glaring, malevolent, esurient maroon, his pupils had contracted, creating a feline-esque predatory nature about them. Quentin’s eyes met Eliot’s mouth, his bottom lip doused in blood; his canines were elongated and sharp, the tips tainted red, the rest of his teeth also splattered in Quentin’s blood.

  
Quentin could feel the world spin slightly; the sight of his own blood and the disconcerting appearance of whatever that thing that looked like Eliot was too much for him. The part of Q that was conscious and sensible told him to scream, run away, do  _ anything, _ but all he seemed to be able to do was fall deeper into dizziness and the darkness that threatened to consume him. The last sight Quentin had before the twilight overwhelmed him was a looming shadow, moving as fast as it could away from him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am dedicating this chapter to one of the lomls @karollinadean on tumblr !!! <3


	4. Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! i got a new puppy recently and he's been taking up all my time! hopefully the next chapter will come a lil sooner. either way, hope you guys enjoy this chap!! <3

 

_ Eliot _

It had all happened so quickly; all Eliot could remember was his lips pressed against Quentin’s pulse point, the smell of Quentin and his blood overriding his senses. His heart's pounding was constant, fast, and strong; it had practically beseeched Eliot to break through the thin layer of skin separating him from the sound. Eliot’s self control was walking a thin line, and it was so easy to give into the deadly form of lust. Once his tongue met with the balmy liquid, he expected his entire body to scream in delight, to make him pierce further into Quentin’s neck. The only response he had was disgust; it tasted bitter, his entire body rejecting it.

“Jesus, El. I meant it when I said don’t break the kid,” Margo’s voice reverberated in his room, but Eliot couldn’t react. He stared at Quentin’s unconscious form, his teeth embellishing Quentin’s neck. Eliot’s jaw was clenched tight, his entire being ridden with guilt and abominable disgust at himself. Alice was dashing from his room to the bathroom, moving at inhuman speeds, her eyebrows scrunched in determination. She had handfuls of medical supplies, placing them on the glass table, as she shifted Q’s head slightly.

“It isn’t that deep. . . and it already seems to be healing itself,” Her voice was calm, her experience in the medical field ever present as she worked to heal Quentin’s injury. Margo eyed Eliot carefully, seeing the empty, yet enraged expression on his face. She didn’t want him to hurt like this, she couldn’t stand it, actually.

“Quentin!” Julia’s voice boomed through the room as she barreled her way to Quentin; concern radiated off her in waves. “What happened?” She kneeled next to Alice, taking Q’s hand in her own.

“Eliot lost control. . . it was an accident,” Alice’s voice was soft, her lips formed into a thin line as she concentrated on his neck. Eliot’s eyes snapped shut, his fingernails digging into his forearm. Julia sighed, giving Eliot a look of disdain before turning back to Quentin. Eliot could tell she had words to tell him, to scream at him, but he didn’t matter at the moment. Q did.

“El, I need to talk to you outside of the room,” Margo’s voice was barely a whisper, her soft hand grazing his elbow. He let her drag him outside of the room, a soundless Penny and Kady standing outside the door. Margo gestured them to head into the room to comfort Julia, leaving Margo alone with Eliot. “I know exactly what is going through your head right now Eliot.” Eliot looked down at her, as her deep brown eyes sparkled with confidence and drive.

“I. . .Bambi. . .I,” He stuttered. Margo tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, resting the hand against her cheek.

“Hush, baby. I know. You lost control, you fucked up, but what you’re not going to do is leave Quentin without answers.” She had to make sure he would listen,  _ understand  _ what she was saying, so she continued, “When he wakes up you’re going to tell him everything. About us, about him, all of it. Then you’re going to let him mull it over and make his own decision on what he wants to do,” Margo paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts, “I know I wanted to use that kid for power and leverage. . . but that look on your face tells me that you really fucking care about him. So, you will let him choose what he wants, rather than you taking that decision away from him and ruining this entire fucking relationship on your own.”

Eliot relaxed a bit, her words striking a chord within him. He nodded, leaning more into Margo’s embrace. He would forever be in her debt; she was his soulmate in an unconventional sense of the way, the head to his heart, the sass to his ass as he liked to put it.

“Head back in there and wait for him, Alice and I will be downstairs if you need us.” El took slow steps back into his room, the same dread filling his chest upon seeing Quentin lying on his couch.

“He’ll be okay; the wound is going to heal incredibly quickly,” Alice gave Eliot’s shoulder a small squeeze before walking out of the room. Eliot was transfixed on the rising and falling of Quentin’s shoulders, which reassured him of Q’s stability. Julia was still kneeling next to Q, her hand tight on his.

“You  _ will  _ tell him everything, or I will stake you myself,” Julia’s voice was stern and unwavering, she didn’t turn to look at him to say this, but the threat was still effective. Julia’s hand slithered off of Q’s, turning Eliot’s way, her eyes daggers as she walked out of the room.

Eliot stood a few feet away from Quentin for a while, drinking in his form, his bare chest, his soft stomach, his long hair, messily strewn around, his face peaceful in sleep. Eventually, Eliot sat on the floor next to the couch, his head level with Q’s.

He examined the gauze that covered his wound, the light tint of red blood had bled through the white padding; Eliot, now aware of the bitter taste of his blood, was barely interested in the liquid. It was a calming sensation, but he despised how he got to the realization; he was almost positive he would never forgive himself for this, even if Q did. Hurting someone he cared about would always eat at him and he had forever to let it do so.

It took a few minutes, but Quentin’s eyes fluttered open; they were wide as they jumped around the room, trying to understand where he was, they rested upon Eliot’s. Quentin’s gaze softened immediately, a small and crooked grin on his features. Eliot’s heart ached; it was a moment of unbridled, unprompted caring and it was directed towards him.

“What. . . happened?” Q asked, his voice hoarse as he tried to sit up. Eliot resisted every urge in his body to help him do so, but he knew he needed to tell Quentin the truth before anything could be done.

Quentin looked at El curiously, his eyes searching for answers, “I’ll have to start from the beginning.” Quentin tilted his head slightly, not understanding Eliot’s words.

“I have been keeping something from you,” El began, placing his hands on the edge of the couch, “My family and I are a clan of vampires. We are one of the biggest in North America, rich, powerful, and feared. We run the majority of the Eastern parts of America and bits of Canada.” Quentin’s entire body paled slightly, his jaw dropping, Eliot, with his eyes, pleaded him to let him finish. “There was a prophecy of this elusive half-breed, half vampire, half human, that held untold power. We have been looking for them for a very long time. . . and once we met you, we were almost certain we had found them.”

“Eliot. . .” Quentin’s voice was pained, yet quiet. Eliot wanted to look away from Q, to wallow in his guilt, but he forced himself to keep eye contact with his lover.

“Please, Q. You are half vampire. I don’t exactly know how or why you were chosen or how you were created, but you just are. You are more powerful and important than you know. . . but the prophecy came with a caveat which is an evil will follow you once you truly become one with yourself,” Eliot stopped for a moment, grasping the couch a little tighter, “And. . . And I lost control earlier.”

Eliot could see Quentin’s mind racing, the questions swarming around his head like bees in a beehive, “Why didn’t you tell me?” Quentin’s voice was destroyed, his forehead creased. The realization that Quentin wasn’t shocked or disgusted, but hurt, hit him like a brick wall. Eliot felt his throat clench, tears threatening to spill over his eyes. Eliot couldn’t reply to him, but he could watch Quentin’s bottom lip quiver slightly, which sent sharp pains throughout his heart. “How? Why? I don’t. . . I don’t understand.” Quentin shook his head slightly, bringing his hands to his wound, gracing the gauze that concealed it.

They sat in silence for a moment, before El’s throat unclenched, “I know Q. . . it’s a lot to take in-”

“Was I just a prize to you?” His voice was laced in agony, a tear trickling down his cheek upon his false revelation. Eliot wanted to scream at him, to tell him that couldn’t be further from the truth, but his entire body was struck dumb. “Was I some. . . some fucking power piece to hold and flaunt around? Did you ever  _ actually like  _ me?” Quentin’s breath was heated, his voice getting angrier, yet retaining the same level of hurt.  “Vampires? Prophecies? I could probably learn to understand that. . . to connect all the pieces, for what family as perfect as you guys could be human? But I. . . I should have figured you wouldn’t have really wanted anything more to do with me. . . Maybe im not as powerful as you think. . . I couldn’t really tell when you told me the truth, now could I?” Quentin seemed to be thinking aloud, his voice a pained and hurt mumble. Eliot began to shake his head, _ I meant everything I’ve ever said Quentin, all of it, dont. . . dont doubt yourself now. Hate me all you want, but please. . . _ Quentin gave Eliot one last glance, cutting off his thoughts, Quentin’s eyes wet with tears.

“Quentin I-” Eliot tried again, his entire body numb, his words failing him.

“No, El. . . I. . . I need some serious time to think over some things.” Quentin shivered, getting up from the couch, Eliot leaning away from him. Quentin grabbed his shirt and jacket, shoving the jacket on his shoulders, zipping it up, before leaving Eliot alone in his room.

Eliot could feel his world crash down on him; walls upon walls he has built up over the years tumbling down. The look on Quentin’s face, the tears in his eyes, the breaking of his heart that El could practically hear his heart break as he replayed the scene in his head. He bit down on his lip, placing his head against the edge of his couch, shutting his eyes tight. Hot tears flowed down his cheeks, silent sobs wracking his shoulders, as he disappeared into his torturous mind.

#

_ Quentin _

“You knew?” Quentin’s voice cracked, he could feel his emotions crawl their way back up his throat, wanting to break free. His back was pressed against his metal headboard, numb to the digging sensation into each of his vertebrae. He had been completely shut down these past few days; he sat in his darkroom, not moving other than to head to the bathroom.

Julia sighed, sitting on the tail end of his plush bed, “I did, but I didn’t know about  _ you _ .” Her eyes were soft as she looked into Quentin’s, trying to convey her sincerity through them. Quentin craned his neck to the left, looking out his broken down windowsill, tears pooling into his eyes.

“Then why didn’t you tell me? I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other, Jules. . .” His bottom lip trembled, his beautiful eyes elevated by the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks.

“You don’t know how bad I wanted to, Q. . . It just wasn’t my secret to tell.” She placed her hands in her lap, only after tucking a lock of loose, curly hair behind her ear. Quentin closed his eyes for a moment, a tear trickling down his cheek. He knew she was telling the truth, that this entire situation was  _ real, _ but he wasn’t so sure of his so-called powers at the moment. “I know it’s a. . . a lot. . .”

“No, it’s not even that Jules. . . I. . . was any of  _ it  _ real?” He relayed his fears to her, his head thudding against the black metal behind him.

“Quentin. . . I thought you knew the truth? Couldn’t you tell that Eliot meant what he said, what he felt?” Her eyes were wide as she crept closer to him on the bed, until she was sitting across from him.

“I don’t know anymore. . . It’s, it’s fucking crazy and I don’t know what to believe, let alone my own capabilities,” His voice broke again, the picture of Eliot’s elegant features crossing his mind. He missed him, despite everything; it felt like a chunk of ripped away from him.

“Quentin Makepeace Coldwater. If I have to give you this lecture until the day I die, I will, but you’re strong, so fucking strong. Your weird superpower has been a part of you for as long as you can remember, yet your mind doubts itself now? Why do you think that is?” She ran her fingers down his face, wiping away his salty tears. Quentin knew the answer, he knew that his self-deprecation would find its way to ruin his relationship with Eliot, and it almost did. It made him believe that he wasn’t worth Eliot, that Eliot couldn’t be into someone as pitiful as Quentin. The part that made Quentin’s stomach clench, was the fact he believed it wholeheartedly; he didn’t even question that malicious voice in his head, but he betrayed his heart, his sensibility, his  _ belief  _ in himself. Quentin violently bit down on his lip, hating his mental illness, his brain,  for ruining every single good thing in his life.

Quentin clenched his messy bed sheets, “I’m sick of it, Jules, I’ve ruined everything. . .”

“Hey no, Q. Depression is one hell of a monster, but it doesn’t have to define you. You are stronger than it is; I know you are. Also, this is super repairable, I promise,” Julia shifted, crawling into Quentin’s lap and resting her head against his chest, “P.S. you just found out one of the wealthiest families alive, which include your fucking boyfriend, are vampires. You’re reacting pretty calmly.”

Quentin shrugged, “Fantasy never seemed that unrealistic no matter what bullshit I said to not look weird. I also always wanted it to be real, to have that escape actually exist. . .” Q trailed off, looking towards the shimmering, orange sunset that looks distorted through his window.

Julia giggled, interweaving their fingers together, “P.P.S. I want you to know I reacted kinda similarly to you when I found out. I stayed away from them for a solid three weeks. . . trying to figure out what the hell was real or not. I eventually realized that they loved me enough to let me go, if that’s what I wanted. . . and that struck a special chord with me. I also missed them a shit ton, so. . .” Quentin let out a small huff, placing his head against Julia’s, relishing in her warmth, her caring nature, and the entirety that is Julia Wicker.

“I love you Jules.”

“I know,” Julia beamed. They fell into an easy silence, Quentin’s thoughts were relentless; he wanted to apologize to Eliot, to fix everything, to tell him that he would be with him no matter what he is. He wanted Eliot to know he loved him, that he was falling in love with him, and he wasn’t going to let his own mind stop that.

“So, we‘re dating vampires?” Quentin sighed, his voice nonchalant yet exhausted, causing Julia to open one of her eyes to look at him.

“Yep. I’ve stopped giving a fuck a long time ago, Q.” Julia gave Quentin a quick pat on the leg before bouncing off him. “Now, I’m going to help you fix this mini mess you’re stuck in. Where would you be without me, Quentin Coldwater?” Julia pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, slightly rustling her hair.

Quentin rolled his eyes, “Probably dead. . . or worse.”

“Okay, phase one is. . . me leaving and coming right back, I promise.” Quentin crossed over his arms, feeling excitement and joy filling his system once again. Julia knew when to give him space, but also knew exactly when it was time to make him feel a bit better.

“You’re talking like you knew that I’d fuck this up somehow? Like. . . you had a plan this entire time.”

“Let’s just say Margo knows Eliot and I know you. That collective knowledge led us to a contingency plan,” Her voice trailed off towards the end, as she pulled her high-waisted leggings further on her tiny body.

“I, uh. . .?” Quentin began, resting his fingers against his lips. Julia gave him a quick peck on the cheek before darting out of his room; the door slammed against its frame, practically shaking his entire bedroom. Q took a deep breath, trying to stay together enough to fix everything, to see Eliot again.

He was finally letting himself feel things again, he had locked himself in this dungeon of apathy for too long, he almost forgot how kind, smart, charming, flirtatious, hot, and caring Eliot was. Q never wanted to forget the way he smelled, smiled, felt on top of him, and the way he looked at Q that made him feel like the center of the universe. Quentin stretched his arms, turning his body so that his legs hung off his tall bed; he rubbed his face, trying to shake himself back into reality. His legs groaned as he hopped down from the bed, his kneecaps desperately wanting to buckle.

He walked over to his closet, prying the rickety door open, staring at the man in the mirror. He had a purple ring under his eyes, drawing even more attention to the polar colors. His hair was muddled into a nest of knots and split ends; he tried running his fingers through it, to no avail. He huffed, tugging at the sleeves of his gray sweatshirt that hung loosely on his frame.

“You. . . are going to realize that you aren’t a horrible piece of fucking shit and. . . and that you’re not going to let this relationship go down the drain. . . it’s the only one you’ve had that has  _ really  _ mattered, got it?” Quentin growled to the reflection, pointing at it with all the emotion he had bottled up the past few days. “An, and you’re going to put on your big boy pants and talk to him, actually talk to him. . . cause that’s how good relationships work, y’know? Communication and shit,” He rambled to hisself, his eyebrows furrowed as he flailed his arms around.

“Oh, Q, I’m so proud of you. . .” Julia’s voice startled him; he banged the door shut, not-so-gracefully leaning against it. “Phase one is complete! Second phase is you showering and taking care of yourself!”

Quentin blew a lock of hair out of his face, his face incredulous, “Good plan . . . but I can take care of myself. . .I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this,” He felt guilty for always being something she had to fix; he felt like a toy, constantly getting pulled apart, only to have the toy maker ready with his tools.

“I know, Q. I just get worried about you. I’m not putting my life on hold for you, I promise.” Julia clapped her hands before shuffling Quentin towards her room. Quentin went without another word, closing her bathroom door behind him. He sighed, turning the shower's water to a scolding heat, enjoying the heat that radiated from the drops of water. Once Quentin stepped into the shower, his entire body eased, his mind coming to a peaceful state; he enjoyed the calamity of water drizzling down his skin. He began to hum, a tune that brought a bittersweet pang to his chest; he slowly drifted into the song, reminiscing in the lithe touches of Eliot’s hands, his breath, his lips, his entirety. He sighed, beginning to wash his hair, swimming in the unalloyed daydream of Eliot.

#

“Phase three: take you to the mansion,” Julia chirped, helping Quentin place his brown jacket upon his shoulders. “This method is a little unconventional, but it gets the job done.”

Quentin walked out of Julia’s room to find Penny leaning against their beige hallway, “Uhm, hey Penny.” Quentin felt like he should have been scared of Penny, knowing what he knows now, but he couldn’t find it in him to be afraid.

“Hey. Ready to go?” He shifted, offering his hands to both of them. Quentin stared at Julia, incredulously, beyond confused. Julia nodded him forward as she took his hand; they fit like pieces of a puzzle. Quentin uneasily took Penny’s hand, unused to the rough, yet strong grip he had.

“I really don’t understand how-” He began, being quickly cut off by the lack of ground below his feet and the feeling of blacking out consuming him once again. When he came to, he was in the magnificent mansion that Eliot’s family resided in. “What. . . the living fuck?” He was out of breath, his eyes wide as he scanned the couch where the family sat. Penny let out a hearty chuckle, his deep voice reverberating through the walls.

“Hey, Quentin, I’m glad you’re doing better. . . Julia told us you were doing just as well as El.” Alice gave him a small wave, her concern warming Quentin slightly. Her hands rested upon a frilly, light pink skirt; a ring decorating her third finger upon her left hand. Quentin furrowed his eyebrows in response, not being able to process everything, his brain still catching up to the rest of his body.

“We’re glad you came to your senses,” Kady was somehow standing next to him, a burly slap coming against his back. She grinned at him, surprisingly sincere, before turning to Julia and Penny. Quentin, still dumbfounded almost tripped over his feet, a shaky breath falling from his lips.

“Thank god the boy toy is here,” Margo’s voice echoed throughout the room, Quentin turned and saw her, hands on hips. She was wearing a white pantsuit and pink blazer, seemingly to match Alice. She had a worn look about her, despite her elegant features. “Eliot’s been self loathing for days, so, we’re going to fix this cock of a mess.”

“Good luck, Coldwater.” Penny shook his head, interlocking his fingers with Julia’s and Kady’s. Julia leaned against Penny’s handsome frame, practically humming in his presence.

“Told you I’m not putting my life on hold. . . you just needed a little push in the right direction. You got this Q.” Julia smiled, her eyes crinkling before disappearing in a blip of color.

“Alright, phase 4: communication, something both of you seem to lack basic skills in. . . so, tell him how you feel, all of it, do not spare his feelings,” Margo pinched her glabella, walking towards Alice; Alice placed a comforting hand on Margo’s shoulder, her eyes swarming in concern for Margo. “Then, phase 5: you two bang it out, albeit safely.” She rolled her eyes, leaning into Alice’s touch.

“He’s in his room,” Alice whispered, nodding Quentin away. He let his feet drag him towards the lavish stairs, pins and needles poking at his hands and arms. He wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say, at the beginning of the day he thought Eliot wasn’t even into him, let alone destroyed over their last encounter. On autopilot, Quentin made his way back to Eliot’s door, the doorknob taunting him. He closed his eyes, a trembling hand opening the door; he was hit with a distinct scent of liquor and cigarettes, the room was dark, all of its intricacies gone from his eyes.

“El?” Quentin’s voice was quiet as he stepped into the void room, shutting the door behind him.

“Quentin,” A distraught voice called out to him, lanterns were lit, illuminating the room. Quentin searched hungrily for Eliot, catching him sprawled across the couch, shirt unbuttoned, curls sprawled against his face, a bottle of liquor and what he assumed blood sitting on the table next to him. Eliot immediately stood up, his eyes wide and full of emotion; he looked at Q like he was the second coming of christ, in beautiful glory. “Q. . .” Eliot’s voice broke, despite his unkempt demeanor, he walked to Quentin with ease. He stopped a few feet before Quentin, his eyes glossy and full of fervor, “I need to apologize. . .”

“No, let me. I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself. . . and I, I let my self doubt question how you felt about me and for that. . . I’m so sorry.” Quentin took a deep breath, shuffling slightly closer to Eliot, “While I still can’t really fucking believe you’re vampires, although Julia does, so it’s probably true. . . anyway, if you’re still willing to have me, I want to be with you. El, I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me. No one has made me feel the way you do; I truly feel wanted for the first time in my life.”

Eliot stared at Quentin like he was about to disappear into thin air, “Quentin. . . I’ve wanted you from the moment I looked at you; you mesmerized me with your eyes, your hair, your demeanor, your voice, your personality. I couldn’t function thinking you hated me, while you had every right to feel that way. . .” Eliot’s voice had trailed off, but he was right in front of Quentin. Quentin’s breath caught in his throat at the sudden movement and proximity of El, but relished in it, nonetheless. “If  _ you  _ can forgive  _ me,  _ is what should be said. I promise to you I will answer any question floating about your head, I promise to try my best to never hurt you ever fucking again, an I promise to cherish you ‘for all of eternity’,” Eliot chuckled in what seemed like years, bringing a hesitant hand towards Quentin’s face.

Quentin grabbed El’s hand, softly placing it against his cheek, “I forgive you and I’m gonna keep you on that ‘for all eternity’ thing.” Eliot couldn’t really help himself, seeing Quentin already had him on the verge of tears, but his words were too much; El let a few tears fall down his cheeks, every calamitous thought shifting away, making room for fireworks of joy. Quentin brought his thumb to Eliot‘s cheeks, wiping the salty tears away, “ El. Were you okay, I know you said you couldn’t function, but?” Quentin stepped back, bringing their clasped hands down to Quentin’s side.

The look of worry and concern that characterized Quentin’s face made a warm feeling in Eliot’s chest blossom, “Not really, to be honest. Thinking I had destroyed us with my hubris and general stupidity, sent me spiraling. When I was human, I had a serious problem with alcoholism and while it doesn’t affect me the same now, it’s still something I fall back to. . .” Eliot looked away from him, his eyebrows creasing.

“Hey, I also have a fair share of horrible coping mechanisms and addictions, no need to feel ashamed. I understand. I’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I swear to god, E.” Quentin squeezed his hand; Eliot pondered for a moment, almost forgetting just how  _ human  _ Quentin could be and how much he loved him for it.

“Quentin Coldwater, to truly make things up with you, I want to have a proper date with you in my home.”

Quentin beamed, nodding his head quickly, grabbing the sides of his unbuttoned shirt and pulling him downwards; he crushed his lips against El’s, feeling sparks trail from his lips across the rest of his face. Eliot melted into the kiss, startled for a moment at Quentin’s audacity.

The kissed for a minute, before Quentin reeled back placing his forehead against Eliot’s, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, so much.”

After a moment of peace and solidarity, Quentin spoke up, “When is this date you speak of?”

“Now, but first I need you to head downstairs,” Eliot smiled, releasing Quentin’s hand. Quentin walked out the door, hearing a light noise echoing the sound of it closing behind him. Quentin couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even if he tried, his entire body alive as he walked out of the hallway and down the left side of the stairway. 

“Oh, hi puppy dog. You and El already work things out? Damn, I owe Julia 20,” Margo chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I. . . yeah.  Thank you, Margo, for helping us out.”

Margo softened, a small smile playing her lips, “You’re welcome, now don’t fuck it up again. I have to go to be in a photo shoot and then I have to run a photo shoot. Have fun, Coldwater,” She sighed, giving him a little wave and a wink before walking towards the illuminated main hallway. Quentin walked towards the large French doors, which he still marveled at, and tentatively opened them.

“Hey Quentin! I was just about to leave, but it’s nice to see you much happier than before. . . it probably means Eliot is as well.” Alice gave him an awkward wave from the mini bar that was placed in the far left corner of the spacious, yet well decorated room.

“Yeah, thanks Alice.” Quentin walked towards the velvet couch, plopping upon the cushions, practically sinking into them.

“I’d love to get to know you better, as is Margo quite frankly, but don’t tell her I said that,” Alice teased, combing her pin straight hair with her fingers. Quentin chuckled, enjoying Alice’s different, yet kind presence. “Well, I’m off to go run some of the more ‘boring’ sides of our business.” She gave him a small smile before making a B-Line for the front door.

Quentin came to the steadfast realization that he was alone with Eliot, in his gigantic home. His mind flitted through many scenarios, from PG all the way to R. He shook his head, bouncing his leg anxiously waiting for Eliot to call him back up. As if on cue, Eliot’s lustrous voice rang throughout the mansion. Quentin practically hopped off the couch, bursting with anticipation and excitement.

Before he could open Eliot’s door, the door opened for him, Quentin froze at the sight in front of him; Eliot was in a beautiful, black vest, with little roses patterning the linen with a white undershirt, he was in tight, black dress pants, that left almost no room to the imagination, and his hair was let loose, the curls falling easily in front of his face.

“Now I feel underdressed,” Quentin shook his head, before stepping closer to Eliot, “But you look amazing.”

“You look amazing, Q. Now, I have set up a little thing with the list I’ve mentally created of all the things you like.” Quentin, momentarily, beat himself up again for ever doubting Eliot’s affection towards him.

Quentin went wide eyed, staring at his little coffee table, which had a silver platter on top of it with a mountain of chocolate covered strawberries.

“El, this is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Quentin murmured, loving the soft glow of the lanterns in his room, creating a beautiful atmosphere. El gave him a soft smile before intertwining their fingers and bringing him to the couch. Eliot lavishly grabbed a strawberry and plopped it into Q’s mouth, causing them both to giggle.

“ El, how did you stop?” Quentin asked, after they both shared a few more strawberries.

“Stop what?”

“From like. . . draining me,” Quentin’s voice was quiet, but his eyes didn’t leave Eliot’s.

“Your blood was gross, to be blunt. I don’t think I’ll want to try it again, but still, I’m so sorry Q.” Eliot’s forehead creased, disgust for himself written on his features.

Quentin kissed his knuckles, “Whenever you’re uncomfortable we can stop doing what we’re doing, even if we’re in the heat of the moment.” Eliot practically choked on air, laughing at his phrasing. “What?”

“Nothing, but thank you, Q. Same to you. Another strawberry?” Eliot’s voice raised an octave, becoming very playful in nature. Q nodded, happily taking the one in his hand without thinking about it. Eliot feigned shock as Q grabbed a strawberry of his own in pride; Eliot snatched it out of his hand within an instant, mockingly waving it above his head.

Quentin tried to snatch it back, only to whiff, “Give it back, El.”

“Come and take it from me, Coldwater.” Eliot got off the couch, teasingly dangling it above his open mouth. Quentin licked his lips, at the strawberry and Eliot’s mouth, before hopping off the couch. Quentin took a step towards Eliot and swiped at his arm, only he ended up missing again and went tumbling into Eliot. “Clumsy,” Eliot tsked him, his voice melodic as he held Quentin, with his free arm, against his chest. Quentin paused for a moment, smacking a kiss to Eliot’s lips, which distracted him enough to let his guard down.

“I thought vampires had like, razor fast reflexes or something?” Quentin cackled, taking a step away from El, waving the strawberry back and forth. Eliot gave Quentin a devious smile before practically vanishing before Quentin’s eyes and before Quentin could realize it, Eliot was sitting on his bed, the fruit in his hand.

“We do,” Eliot smirked, about to take an actual bite of it; Quentin, harnessing everything he had pounced upon El before he could do anything. Quentin had landed on top of Eliot, straddling him, not aware of his own grace; Quentin yanked the delicious chocolate covered strawberry from his stunned hand and plopped it in his mouth.

“I win,” Quentin huffed, his voice muffled by the chewing of food.

“I guess half vampires also have reflexes,” Eliot breathed, acutely aware of Quentin’s position on top of him and the way his lips were a plump red. Quentin raised an eyebrow, not comfortable about his own state of being, but he didn’t really care at the moment. The moment Quentin stopped chewing, Eliot had taken the chance to entangle his fingers with his hair, bringing him down and into a kiss.

They quickly got lost in the presence of each other, not realizing how much they missed one another. Their misunderstandings and odd circumstances never seem to really put a dent in their feelings, their relationship, for they complete each other in a sense. Eliot wanted to give Quentin everything he wished for, because Quentin was the one thing he had always wished for. Quentin just wanted Eliot; to be able to say he was Eliot’s and Eliot was his. They both hadn’t admitted it yet, but they loved each other more than they thought they deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> adina and evan,, if u see this ilysm and i hope you know i wouldnt have been able to do this wout you.  
> this is a ridiculous vamp!au that you can take seriously if you want. I am having a shit ton of fun with this one and i hope you will too! <3


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